#by ripping the chair out of her hands :0

[syxnewt]

AMERICAN PUBLIC HIGH SCHOOL IS SO :0

CUZ LIKE TODAY WAS A PEP RALLY AND SOME TEACHERS AND STUDENTS DID MUSICAL CHAIRS AND ON THREE OCCASIONS TWO PEOPLE FOUGHT OVER A CHAIR LIKE NOT PUNCHING OR ANYTHING BUT IT GOT ROUGH AND EVERYONE WAS JUST LAUGHING AND I MEAN I WAS TOO BUT DAMN IT WAS CRAZY

[venomvalley]

Erm what about sevi giving her gf nipple piercings??-$-&/&/88/0/0-8:-$/$/&/9/8/8

And also going insane because she can’t rlly do much until they heal 👅👅

anon are you in my walls cause this is the exact same situation my girlfriend and i are experiencing....

warning for blood mention and needles. 18+ please!!

One of the biggest pros to your girlfriend working at a tattoo shop is getting free piercings in a relatively clean, comfortable environment. Even better that your girlfriend is the piercer providing you free, professional service.

Like today, after months of debating on a very popular, arguably painful piercing. Her presence is a comfort that soothes the anxiety fluttering in your chest, the room clean and neat—so unlike her personal space at home.

"You do realize that these take six months to heal," Sevika says, looking up from the new pack of gloves she just opened to raise her brows at you.

She looks good in her element, sat at her station in a rolling chair and a cut-off tank top that bares muscled arms and the trim curve of her waist. You can't even focus on the size of the needle without straying to the sight of her long fingers clad in sterile gloves.

One of the biggest cons to your girlfriend piercing you? She takes her job very seriously. No funny business, no joking around, no PDA. When you sit in her chair, you're a client just like everyone else.

"You've told me fifteen times over the past week," you say, curling a playful foot around the back of her leg. "I'm ready to get this over with."

You know what she means, though: six months without me touching your tits. Frankly, the time frame is daunting, a bit dreadful to think about. Six long months without her mouth on you.

Damn. You could cry at the thought of it.

With a huff, she clasps her hands together to adjust her gloves over her fingers. "Shirt off."

You wore a simple button-down for the occasion, easy to get on and off in the event of an unexpected guest (as if any other artist would dare interrupt when you're in the room). You slowly work each button free from its toggle with a wiggle of your brows and a sensual arch to your back.

She stares at you like you've grown a second head, but still glances down at the slow reveal of skin. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to seduce you." Your eyes narrow. "Is it working?"

She shrugs, lips twitching into a teasing grin as her chair rolls across the floor. "Not really." So close you can reach out and touch her, elbows balanced on her knees as she tracks the path of your fingers.

Your shirt falls open, hanging from your shoulders before you tease the fabric down your arms. She's good at pretending, but not good enough. Her swallow is audible in the silent room, and the chair creaks when she leans back, hips shifting.

"What, don't wanna give 'em one last kiss?" you ask, pressing your tits together with your arms. An invitation.

One she promptly ignores when she rips open the package of an alcohol wipe. "No. I don't."

The air leaves your lungs in a harsh scoff. "You're so rude."

"I'm piercing you for free."

"With that attitude? I'd rather go to—"

Behind the cold alcohol pad, her fingers pinch at your nipple, jolting you in the chair. "Don't finish that sentence."

You consider heeding her warning, then decide that the possible consequences are worth it. "… Margot."

After a long, tense moment of mutual staring, she grumbles, "Be grateful I already have my gloves on."

There's nothing explicitly sensual about the sharpie that she dots on either side of each nipple, or the way she holds your tits to ensure an even marking (doesn't even get a little squeeze in, the asshole). More clinical work-up than secret rendezvous. But that changes when she runs her tongue over her bottom lip, gaze sharp and focused. Anticipation licks heat up the back of your neck as you wait for her to finally cave, to give you some form of pleasure that your brain is hard-wired to expect.

"Deep breath," she says, voice soft and calming. On instinct, you tense up, lungs filling with air. "Just relax. You're alright."

You close your eyes and exhale, the needle a sharp sting through your skin only moments later. Another wave of pain blooms when she feeds the piercing through, your heartbeat a frantic thrum in your ears—the sweet release of adrenaline that keeps you coming back to her chair, addictive and euphoric.

Her lips press to yours in a slow, tender kiss, same as always. Equal parts reward and reassurance. "You did good. Now, the other."

The second nipple hurts worse, just as she said it would, but you try to keep still, to be good for her. You suck a sharp breath through your teeth as she puts the second piercing in place, more rough with screwing the ball on in exchange for speed. Better to just rip the bandaid off, you suppose.

She dabs at the pebbling blood with a square of gauze, then strips off her gloves and traces the bottom curve of your tits with her thumbs. Lifts them once again to check the evenness of each piercing.

"How do they look?" you ask, a bit lightheaded from the warmth of her touch (and probably from the fact that your nipples just had a needle stabbed through them).

Her mouth twists into a frown, fingers dimpling the flesh. "I regret not taking you up on your offer."

"That's too bad. Shop's closed for six months."

A sharp glare aimed your way. "Don't remind me."

As expected, the next six months are a trial of patience for both of you. A teasing push-and-pull where you remind her of your predicament every time you have sex, and she tortures you with the heat of her mouth on every inch of skin but where you crave her most. Still, she copes with the situation worse than you do. Can't lay on your chest like she used to, or suck on your tits when she's bored, or cradle them in her hand as she falls asleep.

But once the healing period is over (she keeps the exact date in her calendar), you have just enough time to step through the front door and remove your shoes before she pounces on you. Yanks up your shirt and bra and runs a thumb over the metal.

"You couldn't let me sit down first?" you ask, backing up against the wall beside the door.

She pinches a nipple between thumb and the knuckle of her forefinger, twists hard enough to leave you arching into her hand. "No."

You expect more of a response from her, but her mouth quickly becomes occupied by the same nipple previously grasped between her fingers. She soothes the ache with her tongue before closing her lips around your flesh. Suckles soft and sweet.

Fucking finally.

Pleasure lances down your spine at the wet heat of her mouth, her hand pressed to the curve of your back. She pulls away long enough to sit you on the entry table before her mouth latches onto each of your tits, back and forth and back and forth.

Your breathing stutters when her arm curls around your back, tugging you as close as possible against her. On instinct, your legs part, hips chasing stimulation.

And then she pulls away with a wide, teasing grin. Stands to her full height and steps back, lips slicked with spit.

Your mouth falls open in shock when she says, "Maybe next time, you should go to Margot."

[redpulsive]

Sylus Affinity 145 Secret Times: Midnight Feast

18+ Minors DNI | SPOILERS ↑ ↑ ↑

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋

Writing my thoughts about it while listening to it again for the THIRD TIME! (Insane)

OH BOY this has to be one of the most interesting Secret Times audios for Sylus and I NEED to talk about it. Once again, this includes spoilers so don’t read if you want wait to get it yourself!

I’ll include time stamps for each portion I’m talking about, and if you want to listen to it yourself here’s a YouTube link to an upload of it :•) have fun!

0:54-2:17

I love how right off the bat we get Sylus being his usual loverboy self, literally saying he wants to hear his wifey say she was waiting for him. Even cuter knowing that he finds out MC was, at the very least, thinking about him! Even if she jokingly denies that she had ordered food via room service for the both of them. But oh my god, the line “you better be as bold as you are insatiable today” after all of that is CRAAAZZYYY! The word Insatiable was an immediate clue to where the climax of this Secret Times was going, as it can mean both appetite and desire.

2:21-3:32

MC CANONICALLY WEARING SYLUS’ CLOTHES?? HIS CHUCKLE WHILE SAYING “I’m not trying to mock you” ??? THE WAY HE TEASES HER BY SAYING “do I look like I’m… anticipating something?” AFTER ASKING WHAT HES SUPPOSED TO WEAR BC SHES IN HIS PAJAMAS???? Something is in the goddamn air!!!

4:00-4:09

MC calling Sylus a bad boy and him repeating it questioningly is all I ever needed to hear. His voice actor’s delivery on “You’re calling me a ‘bad boy’ again?” is SO velvety.

4:38-6:20 atp I’m just summarizing what’s happening and throwing my thoughts in there

Sylus literally putting his hand SOMEWHERE on MC’s body under the pajamas (people seem to think it was in her pants) and saying “This here... it’s very warm… oh? This isn’t the fabric? Then what is it? Tell me.” AND SHE FUCKING BITES HIM FOR BEING A TEASE BC HIS HANDS WERE COLD?? I really love how Sylus says “don’t bite” like he’s scolding an animal, it’s so funny how much he’s influenced her because when has she EVER attempted to bite him in the current timeline???? HE’S the biter. And then of course she tries to get back at him and he USES THE PAJAMA SLEEVES TO TIE HER UP!??!?! Then after he says “won’t you be a good little hand warmer now, kitten?” (crazy) she seemingly rips the pajamas by trying to break free? At first I thought he was taking off a ring and putting it down so he could use his fingers on her, but after listening closely it sounds like a button snaps off of the pajamas and lands on a table. This is also supported by Sylus talking about how she’s very strong and the pajamas are too flimsy. He also removes her pants and underwear at some point during this section bc the next part…

6:21-8:30 I GOTTA MOVE ON TO THE FEAST

The way he says he’s hungry and you immediately hear him pulling over a chair/stool?? Or maybe he’s pushing away furniture so he can get into a comfortable position before you hear him START TO INDULGE IN HER KITTY!!!! Just kissing sounds and open mouth noises but COME ON! You know what he’s up to. BUT THEN THEY GET INTERRUPTED BY FOOD SERVICE </3 it’s silly that MC got up to get it and Sylus was like “do you actually plan on opening the door like that?” bc she’s literally in torn pajamas while her pussy is facing the world. He tells her that he’ll get it and to wait for her late night snack, but once she’s done eating it’s his turn to munch. Oh my god. Actually fucking insane. Bro doesn’t even care about the food, he just wants to eat HER SO BAD!!!!!

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋ ‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋

[ryewwww]

Umm, I loved bully gojo and 2 , what happened after he kidnapped her and yknow , non conned her , like is he just obsessed with her , ORRRR , is he obsessed with her aaanndd IN LOVE with her ? Will he force her to be his girlfriend and future wife. Will she try to pick herself up and make a good life for self even though gojo literally exists. Hmmmmmmmm???? Idk but anwyas that story atteee . Stay sexy , ..sexy 🥰💓

⚠️: NON CON, Kidnapping, Mean!Gojo, physically, mental and emotional abuse, manhandling, bullying, biting, groping, size difference, pregnancy sex

-> THIS IS REALLY DARK AND FUCKED UP PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK !

-> Idk why but everyone ate that Gojo fic up for some reason😭

-> part 1

Oh boy, he is more than obsessed with you

You made it too easy for him

With your family being out of the picture and you having quite literally 0 friends

Isolating you… well you already did that to yourself

Your reputation at school burned to the ground the moment he decided to leak your sex tape

So there’s no going back to uni

He handed in a resignation letter on your behalf and though your boss was concerned, Satoru assured her that you’re alright, but your morning sickness has been brutal lately

She raised her eyebrows and smiled, telling Satoru to pass on her congratulations to you

Your roommate at your dorm didn’t give a crap (she has a big, fat crush on Satoru and when she found out he slept with you, she wanted to kill you.)

That urge only grew stronger when Satoru stopped by your dorm to move your stuff out and when she asked him why he was the one moving it, he simply stated,

“Well, she’s pregnant with my child so she’ll be living with me so I can take care of her.”

Safe to say your roommate spent the night ripping her hair out of her scalp

And you. You’re sitting in the sunroom with a cup of warm tea and a side of prenatal vitamins in front of you

You’re in deep thought when the door swings open and a tall figure enters in

He sits next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you onto his lap so that your back is relaxed on his chest

“Did you take a look at the blueprints?”

“I did but… what’s wrong with this house?”

“Nothing. I’d just like a bigger home to raise our family in.”

He’s met with silence

“You haven’t taken your vitamins.”

“I will, I just, I haven’t been feeling too good this morning.”

To that he hums and leave a kiss on your neck

“How’s the dress shopping going?”

You pause and put your hands over his

“Don’t you think we’re rushing this? Why can’t we wait till after I’ve given birth?”

“I don’t wanna wait that long.”

You wanted to ask him why, but you knew it would result in the back of his hand meeting your soft cheek

You had already experienced Satoru’s aggressive side and you’d rather not deal with it until this baby is out of you

“I’m sorry, but I need to pee.” You squeak, escaping his grip and leaving him alone in the sunroom

5 days passed, and it was a big day. Your wedding day. Even though it was put together on such short notice, it turned out marvellous.

For a girl, her wedding day is supposed to be one of the best days of her life, right? It’s supposed to be magical, exciting and memorable… right?

So why are you sitting on a chair labeled “bride”, with your hair and makeup complete, staring at a one way bus ticket to the neighbouring city?

That leaves right when the ceremony starts

You had known about the bus ticket. Actually, an unexpected someone had given you the bus tickets.

Suguru, Satoru’s ex-bestfriend.

They had a huge falling out over a business deal and even mentioning his name sets Satoru into a rage. Especially if it’s his fiancee.

So as a lick back, Suguru offered to help you escape him. And maybe by the end of it, you’ll warm his bed once or twice, or better yet, marry him.

From Suguru’s perspective, it was the perfect revenge. Nobody knows Satoru better than himself. He knows exactly how he thinks and what steps he would take to find you.

He also knew that today would be the only day that Satoru wouldn’t be breathing down your neck because you were getting ready to be his bride.

At first, you didn’t believe it. But Geto is convincing. He thought about everything — down to the last little detail. He made you picture a life where you’re far away from Satoru and given a chance to start fresh again.

Going to the neighbouring city means you could have an abortion so you won’t be tied to the blue eyed monster for eternity.

Geto left his number on a sticky note that was attached to the bus ticket. You walk over to the landline and dial his number. After a ring, he picks up and once he hears your sweet voice, he smiles.

“Meet me at the corner of Xander’s street, there’s plenty of trees there to keep you hidden.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest and the tips of your ears were hot. You knew. You knew that if Satoru had the slightest hint about what you were about to do, he’d drag you to hell and back. But the idea of marrying him, having his child and building a home for your family, was far more petrifying.

You slip into some shorts and a tank top before sliding out of the bridal room and using the nearest exit to leave the venue. You scurry along the trees, hoping and praying no one sees. The corner of the street was quiet and secluded. You had plenty of cover and you waited until a blacked out Range Rover pulls over.

The window rolls down and it’s Suguru. He tells you to hop into the back seat quickly before anyone sees.

You do what he says, except when you open the back seat door, you’re met with icy blue eyes.

Your breath hitches and before you know it, you’re being pulled into the car with Satoru screaming at you.

“You fucking lying whore! How fucking stupid can you be, hm?”

He placed you on your back and wrapped his fingers around your neck, slightly chocking you

“When Suguru told me that you accepted the bus tickets, I let it slide. I let it slide because I thought you were smart enough to know not to cross me. But you, you fucking bitch, you really tried to leave me at the alter! You really thought you could get away from me?”

He tears your shorts apart, revealing your white undergarments that you were supposed to wear under your wedding dress.

You couldn’t help but cry, spewing apology after apology. But he wasn’t having any of it. He unbuckled his own pants, pulling his thick cock out of his trousers. He spat down on it for lube and without a care in the world, entered into you.

“You stupid bitch- you thought you could run away and abort my baby?!”

He leans down, his hot breath tickling your ear as he tugs on your hair to expose your neck.

“If you thought, even for a second that you could hide from me and live a normal life after killing my child. You’re just as sick as me… And clearly, you don’t know who the fuck I am. So let me teach you.”

He lifted your legs to mating press, ruthlessly thrusting into you while you sob beneath him. You try resisting by attempting to pry his fingers off the bottom of your thigh, but he has a death grip on them

“P-please stop… It hurts — I can’t move or b-breathe properly.”

You hiccup, but he ignores. Instead, he picks up the pace, making you cry even harder.

“I’m s-sorry please! Please it hurts! I can’t-”

“Shut the fuck up and take it. Or I’ll ask him to shut you up with his dick. I bet you’d like that, you fucking whore. So eager to leave me, is it because you have the hots for my best friend?”

Your eyes glance at the rear view mirror, and sure enough, his eyes are glued on you

Which only makes you sob harder. Hearing no response from you angered Satoru. Did you really like Suguru? He pressed on your neck, and by the look of his eyes, you knew he was waiting for an answer.

“N-no! I don’t- I swear I- I’m just not ready to be a mother, please!”

“I don’t fucking believe you.”

According to Satoru, the entire thing was a test for you. The falling out, Suguru giving you the bus ticket to help you escape, and meeting you at the corner of the street— it was all apart of the test. And you failed it. Miserably.

“And here I was, thinking that I had trained you to know better. To know better than to leave me. But you prove me wrong again and again.”

He finishes inside you. Suguru pulls into the back of the venue. Satoru pulls you up right and lays his forehead against your own.

“Go get your hair and makeup re-done. The next time I see you, you better be in your gown walking down the aisle to wed to me. Do you understand?”

“Mmh”

“Words”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good.”

Apologies for any mistakes. It’s pretty late. Also have mercy on me, I haven’t wrote anything in 9 months so it’s a bit rusty😭

[jazjelspen]

my angel baby (part 5)

(angel w/ angel daughter reader)

(caution!!!!!: mild descriptions of violence)

(notes: alastor joins charlie and vaggie in heaven to convince them about the hotel. angel reader resembles a fawn.)

(tags: @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @just-here-reading @avitute @iam-d3ad-ins1de @des-deswain5621 @xephieeee @glowymxxn @potaturkey17 @insomniacfigure @pooplyface1423 @mo-0-o @thekanrojimitsuri2 @nevermorekisses @wildfire153 )

My lovely editor<333: @kruncher

You were now in Rosie’s Emporium.

In Cannibal Town.

God.

In absolute shambles you were.. if it were in any other place it would be embarrassing seeing your state but considering the drastic circumstances and absolute 180 in the changes of temperatures, colors, smells, energy and even uncovered emotions that you haven't felt since you were a human finally coming out of the shadows and resurfacing, it all simply felt too much and was overwhelming your psyche.

Yet despite this— you knew you had to tough this out.

But here you were, gentle hands trembling and holding a cup of.. tea.

At least you really hoped it was tea.

“Now sweetie what in the unholy world are you doing down here? Hm?

Now now don’t keep me in suspense, if it helps any I’m not going to let anyone else’s filthy hands get on your pure little self!

Oh and me included, minus the filthy hands, mine are quite taken care of.”

This lady only made you cower a bit more simply by talking. Her sharp teeth and this confident air around her only intimidated you more.

If that’s the case.. how’d you even get in this building? Surely you had enough time to run from her in the middle of it..

Well, it's simply because she kept you from getting eaten by yet an oncoming crowd that saw the interaction with you and this apparent 'Susan' to which they seemed to have taken the old lady’s comment a bit.. too much to heart.

Their claws and baring mouths full of sharp bone, tongues salivating in wanting to try a taste of your fresh golden blood that gave off a sweet scent to them from afar.

She managed to scurry them all off with a few demands and a set of sharp words of her own, keeping you safe from becoming cannibal food for the day and honestly you'd rather be on this lady's good side if she had that kind of power to drive away the cannibals the way she did.

Your wing was even cleaned and bandaged by her despite your constant flapping in distrust and fear when she came near, feathers sprawling everywhere as if several pillows were ripped open in a kind of violent pillow fight. You were seated at a table with two chairs facing each other on each side, a bit farther back in the emporium.

“…Promise you won’t eat me, miss..”

The lady smiled fondly, her expression looking like she’s smiling towards a young child scared of the big wide world. She seemed to be genuine and true with her actions but you just really wanted to get to the hotel as soon as you could..

“Of course little thing, I promise I won’t.

Oh and where are my manners! The name's Rosie, sweetheart, I own the Cannibal Town and I lead the Cannibal Colony. Absolutely pleased to meet you."

You looked up at her with eyes full of fear and a hesitance to trust her, to give her any information at all about your circumstances.

But you weren’t raised to lie.. maybe twisting the truth wouldn’t hurt much? Keeping a few things under the rug?..

“Nice to meet you too miss Rosie..you may call me-- uh- ______.

Look I’m.. Im just looking to get back home. I heard Charlie Morningstar can help since she was in heaven awhile ago and she's the Princess of Hell, I must speak with her soon..”

The woman’s face brightened up like the sun with her sharp-toothed smile widening in remembrance. Spooking you out a tad..

“Charlie Morningstar! A real sweet thing that girl, adorable little blonde. Just a few months ago she came about and managed to convince my town of misfits to help her in preparing to defend the hotel against the angels! My goodness did she sweep them off their feet!

But yes, I know exactly where her hotel is! I can take you there as well, not a long stroll from here I'm sure. Oh but.. "

She paused with the back of her hand gently grazing your spread injured wing, it recoiling back at her touch.

"Wouldn't be surprised if any other wild sinner would want to hunt you down for sport, so maybe a nice stroll would be out of the question."

Her pale hand then moved to hold the end of her chin, the other resting on her hip as the gears in her heard started moving to find a safer passage to the hotel for you to get there.. her piqued interest in you has her wanting to see you advance a bit to see what potential you could have in this entire quarry between the both worlds at war.

"Aha! Perhaps we could have you hide inside one of those delivery carriages the townspeople have been taking in and out here to bring materials and food to the hotel. That way you avoid being seen by any potential eyes that could bring bad luck to you."

She walked up towards the large window illuminating the inside of the emporium as well as the two of you with light from Hell's pink and red hues that brighten the entirety of the realm. Her eyes now searching for a particular large object and... voila! She found it right across the town square and standing right in front of a local shop.

"Oh isn't this just perfect! There is one right there, the timing couldn't be more convenient."

You inhaled a quick breath and exhaled it as fast as it came, somehow still incredibly nervous being in a small space with this woman. Oh geez..

But you couldn't exactly complain since you did contribute in having yourself in this situation.

"So.. could we perhaps go.. now? I just.. want to head home as soon and safe as possible ma'am.."

She then suddenly turned to look at you, dress twirling and the feathers on her hat swaying in a way that indicates their movements could barley keep up with hers.

"Oh but of course! Considering half of the town's population is working on the hotel I must visit and check up on them as much as I can. I also must visit a dear ol' friend of mine, real gas that man is.

Well, then let's hop to it now shall we? We better hurry up while our tool of transportation is still here."

Your ears peaked up in slight delight at the fact that you're actually going to be heading over to the hotel now! So soon as well! This saves you so much more time, effort, and blood in trying to find the place you just knew you had to thank the woman in dark fuchsia and gray for taking you all this way. A little voice couldn't help but nag at you at how too convenient this all is.

Too bad you didn't think too much into that.

"Y..Yes! Yes ma'am!" You got up from your seat and set down your cup saucer on the table and scrambled to catch up to her and her pace with your heart pumping in your chest.

Both of you strolled across the Cannibal Plaza towards and up to the local shop with two large delivery carriages that seemed to lean on to a more older style, with them seemingly from the 1900s and were designed as if they were to hold containers like dairy and such and even people, it includeda large window on the driver's seat where they could peak in by turning their backs and looking down.. oh and it'd be a crime to not mention the horses! Although they seemed more undead and violently volatile like their cannibal owners they still were a nice touch.

Rosie and you approached them, Rosie with more confidence and you.. the opposite. "Walter, George," she spoke, an air of casualness persists "Good to see your faces alive and well! Hope you two got a minute to speak to two esteemed gals?"

The men, named Walter and George, looked up at the two of you with interest.

"Well if it isn't our Rosie! Good to see you as well madame, we sure hope you're enjoying this fine day with glee!" the man, seemingly the one called Walter spoke.

Rosie chuckled, "Oh I sure am, I even found myself a new little friend here! Which leads me in having to ask the both of you for a favor that is of most importance."

The other cannibal that goes by George focused his eyes on her and her words, "Why, anything for our beloved Rosie! What can we do for you ma'am?"

You hid slightly behind Rosie, feeling a strange comfort in just her status and power over rest of her people that made you feel at least a bit more safe from them. You would've continued listening to her conversation with the two men if the distant yet also near sound of explosions echoed across all of Hell which made you jump a little and stifle a gasp ever so slightly.

No one exactly noticed this or acknowledged the sounds too much which got you thinking if this is truly just an everyday thing.. of course it is it's hell but-- geez.. how can anyone live like this! Explosions, blood, guts, corpses, drugs, diseases, infections running rampant and indulged in the way pigs would at old farm food.

Just the thought of that damn severed hand being eaten by that little kid that you stumbled upon earlier just made you sick.. ugh.

Is this what Alastor indulges in as well?.. in his own sick way? Is he truly comfortable in a place like this?..

He must be, if he's murdered as many as he did when he was alive, you didn't dare think how many he's hurt and murdered down here as well.

He truly did belong here, in hell. He was a sadist and a psycho through and through.

And that's what disgusted you the most.

"You hear that dear! One of them is half near empty! Let's head on at once!”

Rosie finally snapped you out of your thoughts, you then just nodded as if you were present in the moment this entire time.

Rosie put a hand behind your back to guide you to the back of one of the delivery carriages and as one man held the doors open for the two of you, you both went in and sat down on the neat little benches on the inside and you couldn't help but to acknowledge the several boxes of nails and other unmentionables that you assumed was meant for the hotel and the people working on it.

Eventually after the doors closed you managed to get light by the large window that brightened up the darkness in your new much smaller environment.

“You know ______ darling, you remind me of someone I know.”

Rosie’s sudden voices spooked you quite a bit, it was a bit out of nowhere as it interrupted the awkward silence between the two of you.

“I.. do?”

She nods as her hands rested on the handle of her closed umbrella, sitting in a most elegant way.

Thank goodness she was versatile, considering the circumstances.

“You remind me of a certain friend I’m going to see when we reach the hotel, you see he’s a very powerful fellow. Charming and helpful but.. what interests me more is how alike you both look..”

It’s starting to click slightly once she said ‘he’.. god you just hoped she wasn’t referring to Alastor -- even though you knew how likely it is that she was.

"Oh? Really?.. " acting oblivious I see, but before you could properly respond to her the sound of a whip could be heard with the loud neighs of a horse following right after, making the carriage start moving.

The ride wasn't too bad, a bit traumatizing sure and you really got a good experience of hell.. more or so decent.

In the middle of your ride you seemed to have passed by a rival gang having a shootout considering the two flying bullets that punctured your vehicle which most definitely tensed you up, yet you tried to relax seeing Rosie's opposite reaction.

Then you heard many yowls and screams of ache and pain, all with their own sounds of bodies falling or the sound of wet and squishiness following the disgusting act of puncturing with some sort of weapon you couldn't even imagine can be heard despite passing by the sounds quickly.

The live murders made you feel queasy in ways that made you almost want to throw up but knew you had to keep your head up high.

God, knowing you can't see anything but still hear everything is absolute torture for your wild imagination.

"Miss Rosie, does this--" a loud boom from afar interrupted you, making you almost shrivel up "--does this.. amount of chaos truly...happen everyday?.. I know it’s.. hell but-- isn't there at least one day where this isn't happening?.."

"Oh it never stops darling. It's hell and it will keep going this way until the end of time. I do apologize though.. seems as if your pure little head isn't used to this kind of environment." Duh. "Oh but then that means you'll surely get along with the princess, if anything she seems to be more fit to be an angel."

You simply huffed as your hands trembled on your lap.

This place was downright unpredictable, and you truly hope you would be able to leave this place right after the war.

You miss home already.

----------------------------------------------------

Finally arriving at the Hazbin Hotel was a real treat.

Not really actually-- pfft.

At least not when you had to be around even more cannibals..

Now you knew why the town seemed a little.. empty. The rest were all here.

Charming of them to be helping out but thanks to 'Susan' you didn't want to interact with any of them.

Walking out of your carriage you felt your heart up in your throat and slowly start to beat at a violent pace. Your anxiety was rising.

Rosie lead you to the front of the hotel doors, seemingly dusting herself off fixing her hair and hat before her hand turned into a fit to knock at the door.

You did the same thing she did, except in a more nervous and trembly way. Alastor was in here.. you were sure of it. You could feel it in your bones and your veins wanting to pop blood from out your ears and nose was seemingly close to happening with how hard the beating of your pulse got once Rosie finally did what you were dreading slightly.

knock, knock.. knock.

'okay _____ stay calm. you knew this was going to be bad, but you're here now.. just breathe, breathe...' you followed your own advice and took an inhale but as you let your shaky exhale out the door was slowly opening.

your eyes were staring dead at the head of the door.

was it Charlie? Vaggie? Alastor?--

"Hello there, just came to deliver someone who was looking for the Hotel. Oh and I came to check up on my cannibals and on Alastor."

Rosie all but confirmed it.

She knew Alastor.

For some reason, your heart sank, not just because she knew Alastor very well apparently but because this feels like a sort of strange betrayal.

You really wished she would've told you.. but if she did you would've freaked out even more-- and maybe she could tell?.. wait-- how would she even know your connection to him anyway??.. looking like a fawn couldn't just straight up tell her..

Yet when you finally looked up at the now open door it was actually none of those three that you knew of.

It was a.. cat? A grumpy lookin' one.

He looked at you and up at Rosie, her arm proceeding to go behind your back to push you gently up closer to the door as if to tell the cat to let you in. His eyes widened at the look at you and your physical attributes.. your wings and halo catching his eye but your fawn like appearance only enhancing the tension in his face a lot more.

He eventually let out a husky sigh with the expression on his face relaxing, his voice being very low and his years were audible in his vocal chords he then turned behind him to loudly announce one single thing from afar:

"You've got company."

He turned back at the two of you and opened the door for you to go through, Rosie guiding you in first.

"He's inside talking to the princess, just walk ahead, take a right and you'll see him." He spoke straight forwardly and serious, it made you feel a little unwelcome. Yet as you walked in you couldn't help but feel those eyes of his stick to you like glue.. you couldn't really blame him-- you were sure they don't see an angel everyday the way you are with hell's environments.

The clicking of Rosie's shoes and the gentle pitter patter of your own gave you goosebumps up your arms, and the more you walked and the closer you heard certain voices the more your spine crawled.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

Four steps...

You could barley hear anything but the thumping of your own heart.

The small area of the hotel seemed to have been a sort of living room, sets of chairs and sofas surrounding a television box that seemed to be from one of the more later years after your time.

A calm Alastor and a stressed out Charlie were seated on the two different sofa while facing each other with papers and maps scattered around the table in the middle. Rosie lead you further to have you be in the view of the both of them.. you could've sworn her smile stretched as she did so

"Well if it isn't our beloved Rosie! What a warming surprise!--" Alastor's voice cheered until the end, where a sharp radio static interrupted his sentence and irritated those ears of yours.

"Rosie!" Charlie stood up from her seat in a polite yet frazzled state "Thank you so much for visiting!.. and I-- oh.."

The silence was deafening. You waved awkwardly as you avoided eye contact with your father and faced Charlie herself, her eyes basically ready to budge out and her jaws hanging slightly.

"Just came to visit and bring a little gift! I found this little bird during my stroll around my cannibal town and she seems to need your assistance! Isn't that right ______ darling?"

Rosie finished her sentence by patting your shoulder gently before her hands finally rested on the handle of her umbrella once more. You fiddled with your hands as you shined an awkward smile.. you looked like a child about to give a powerpoint presentation to a class..

'oh dear.. "

—--------------------------------------------

It was yet another cold and dark night in the beautiful New Orleans, faint night music can be heard even in the dead of night from the nearby clubs. A fresh and gentle night,

Ah but.. Alastor wasn’t exactly getting his hours of much needed sleep, for he had been rudely awakened by the cries of a baby.

Yes, you were around ten months old at this time and Alastor was yet to get used to this. There wasn’t a day that passed by where he didn’t think of dropping you at an orphanage. But then again.. It wasn’t that hard to get you to stop crying so those heinous thoughts left very quickly. Except for this day, he was getting challenged by a ten month old you.

“Shh shh shh.. goodness _____ please just go to sleep..” he mumbled, definitely frustrated. Despite his pleas, you just kept on crying and crying while resting over his shoulder. He fed you, patted your back, rocked you to sleep.. nothing worked– unfortunately Alastor wasn’t thinking of one of the most obvious solutions to this situation since the poor guy was too tired to truly think properly.

He kept gently patting your back, shushing you and cooing softly in hopes to tire you out. Your small yet mighty cries continued to rage against his ear..

god he had no idea what to do.

That was when he held you, his hands under your arms as he had you held in front of his face. His glasses were sloppily slapped above his nose, eye bags under his eyes, and a small smile was threatening to turn into a huge frown.

“Little lady.. I don’t appreciate you keeping me up longer than usual tonight, what in the world could you want?” Alastor asked you despite knowing you couldnt understand let alone talk to him back. You simply looked at him with big innocent eyes filled with tears, your baby face stained with dry and wet tear stains and your mouth nibbling on your hand on the verge of crying all over again. Alastor couldn’t help but to look at you almost blankly, he just wanted to sleep.

Gahh but then your eyes started watering again, your little bottom lip curled up over your top one as it quivered and looked at him with these little pained eyes as if he just told you the worst thing ever.

“Oh don’t look at me like that..” he mumbled.. Dreading the feeling you gave him when you cried– it felt like your cries were hurting him, it pained him hearing you cry so hard.

He wasn’t exactly fond of feeling this.

Your loud crying resumed once again, Alastor let out a huge sigh.

“Oh fine- I apologize.. There, better now?” you cried harder, clearly.. no.

He groaned as he then rested you on his chest, your face over his shoulder once again. If your crying wasn’t going to stop he might as well listen to a song to calm his agitation. And so he did, he headed to the living room to then turn on the phonograph. With the device already having a disc in it he simply had to turn it on so it could play where it left off and the second it released the sound of bliss he let out a sigh of relief, that at least despite the crying he could at least go through this as calmly as possible.

The music wasn’t exactly loud, very faint in fact yet he could still hear it a little bit over your crying. He hummed to the tune of the song as he simply patted your back gently and waited for your cries to disintegrate.

This was one of his favorite songs as they were from a musician that is recently becoming incredibly famous in the music industry and Alastor was fascinated by their use of melody and sound.

Melodies that reminded him of the days of his mother when she was still gracing the earth, a real saint that woman was.

Sometimes he talks to her through a photo of her on the wall, asking her questions she’ll never answer, seeking advice and wisdom that he won’t ever be able to hear again.

If only her sickness didn’t overtake her as fast as it did, maybe she would know what to say to motivate him more in this moment of struggle.

He thought and thought and thought as if his head would burst if he didn't.. wondering how she would help him in raising you. What she would say, her suggestions, recommendations.. what would she do in a situation like this.

He knew he had to stay calm and stay in control, he had to keep smiling for that’s what his mother always did no matter what came her way.

She handled it with grace, poise, and with a smile.

It took him around an hour of overthinking about his mothers death, you, his future, his job, and his.. pff.. fascinations.. the lack of sleep seriously taking a toll on him as his want was slowly getting tired of patting you.

But most of all he was thinking about you. His future included yours.

How kind.. despite being so heartless.

Oh.. the song ended and all that was left was the soft static from the machine, blissful silence was all that was heard.

Wait..

Silence?

He looked over his shoulder to look at you, your little baby cheeks squished against him, your eyes closed and your breathing steady..

Finally! You're asleep.

Another sigh of relief released from his lips, continuing to loudly hum the same song that was playing earlier as he slowly walked out of the living room towards his room, now stopping at your crib.

He continued humming as one of his hands held the back of your head and the other held your back, gently placing you in the crib while humming the tune he kept you close while he set you down so you wouldn’t suddenly burst in crying again.

Once he gently managed to place you down with no fuss.. He was darn ready to sleep.

Oh but he took a moment to look at you, leaning against the railings of your ‘bed’ made specifically for you.

Your little baby fat and your squishy cheeks that made your little face even cuter– once again, he was never fond of kids let alone babies but hell if only you didn’t look at him the way you did on that rainy day he found you.. Giggling and smiling even when you didn’t have a single clue of what your situation was as a month old baby.

“You are definitely a handful.. If you kept crying I might have left you in an orphanage by now.” he whispered and joked to himself– no matter the cruel jokes he makes he’ll always find laughter in moments or scenarios of despair.

He’s too far gone now though, he’s bought all your necessities and his home basically screams of a baby’s presence, so even if he truly wanted to do that he knew it’s too late to turn back and you're stuck to him forever.. Well however long ‘forever’ is.

"Domestic life was never quite my style.. still isn't, but I can simply make a few exceptions."

“Well now.. sweetest of dreams, little dove.” he mumbled quietly before finally heading to his own bed himself.

Alastor finally settling in and finally getting comfortable and very slowly falling asleep himself.. glasses back on his nightstand and the noise around him becoming fainter and his mind seemed to finally start powering off for the night.

Finally.. time to sleep.. there's much work to do tomorrow.

Until he heard shuffling from the crib.

‘Oh god.’

(thank you so much for reading part 5 of my angel baby! the stakes are gonna get real high between the reader and Alastor! hope everything goes well for the two when one of them starts interacting!(alastor lmao) hope to see you all in part 6 if you are willing to stick around! Im really only planning to finish this series until the very end or until you guys stop wanting it but nonetheless I hope we reach the end of this story soon!!)

[blingblong55]

The Great War -141, Vladimir Makarov

Based on a request:

with the new mw3, lets do angst, something along the lines of "Somewhere in the haze, got a sense i've been betrayed" coming from us because 141 betrayed us horribly, which ended up in us getting tortured and then we pretennd its fine when it isnt. forget and forgive we lie and when we meet with Makarov, we tell them, 'oops sorry, forgot i was also a enemy at some point, guess its time to betray like real enemies do' and as we set Makarov free, we show that we have been working as his spy ever since they betrayed us. also can this be with a female reader and we also marry makarov behind their backs so thats why we betray so hard? i love u!

A/N: anon knew what they were doing with that ask…anyway, here you go my love…betrayal as a meal <3

--- F!Reader, soldier!reader, enemy!reader, betrayal, mentions of torture and violence

A/N: also, not much of an angst since I don't want to kill Soap in this one...but I hope you like it

[Present day]

File #21712

Name: [Readers Last, First name]

Alias: Grim

Callsign: Bravo 0-5

Gender: F

DOB: [Redacted]

Rank: 2nd Lt.

Affiliations: 

-TF 141 (Former)

-Kasper Team (dissolved)

-Konni Group (Current)

Status: Alive. Threat.

Summary:

Deadly, fast and a killing machine. Soldier was trained as a recon sniper and has been trained by allied forces as an insertion specialist. SAS has recognised this soldier as a necessity for most of its joint operations. Decorated with high awards and recognition by all military forces. TF 141 acquired soldier after a mission in Al Mazrah. Capable of killing all those that come between her and the goal, will not hesitate to harm enemies.

---------------------- 

The file was there, Laswell and all of the men in the team stared at it. What have they done, was all that played in their minds. To betray a soldier that has been wanted by all allied forces, by all teams and now losing you so quickly to a Russian group. To think your hands will be responsible for their demise. One torture room, where you begged as they did vile acts against you. Truth yelled by your gravelly throat, only to have Price ask for more of your blood. "How did he get to her so quickly?" Gaz asked, baffled to have lost you to the man you hated when this all began. "He had her all along," Kate spoke. Nikolai shook his head. "But how? We were her family," a betrayed Ghost said. "We betrayed her first," Price recalls. 

[Eight years ago]

There had been suspicion someone within the base was working with KorTac, a double agent. All fake puzzles led to an unsuspecting, then officer cadet, you. Ghost and Soap made sure to tie you nicely to a chair. The same one that watched you bleed the truth as they cut looking for lies. You were always the hunter, never the prey. "Tell us, R/N, why the fuck were you talking to KorTac!" Price made sure to have the young Lieutenant punch you each time you stayed silent. Your blood on the walls of the torture-...interrogation room. "I told you Price, it isn't me!" Your eyes poured the truth they never saw. 

"Fucking answer us!" Soap, more than ever hurt, slapped you. You play tough, but this hurts, the people you trusted with your life are now wanting to end it. An oath you hold close to you, now far away, or so they believed. The patch you wore with pride, is now ripped from your uniform. No longer friendly but an enemy. You knew what this meant. Ghost took his knife out, began to approach your neck with the sharp blade and before he took your life, Gaz walked in. A small-figured soldier is being pushed into the room. "Tell them what you told me!" Garrick barked. "I-it's me! I'm the one who is talking to KorTac," voice filled with fear, rightfully so. Ghost let go of the fisted uniform in his hand, and watched as your body fell forward. Soap, look of regret, held you in his arms. 

On the way to the medic centre, Ghost was by your side as you kept whispering it wasn't you. The scar he made, is forever to be kept. Days of healing, hours of apologies. Nights when you didn't hear it, but the cold lieutenant apologised with a stream of tears on his face. A blade he cared for, neared your death. 

A/N: Makarov's information has been updated for the reboot, so I'm basing myself on that

[Seven years ago]

[Saint Petersburg, Russia]

You visited the country as a civilian and bumped into a man on your way to your hotel. "Sorry, mate," you kept walking and then days later, the same man appeared in the hotel's lobby. Bumped into you and then as an apology for spilling your wine, he offers dinner. 36-year-old Vladimir was still not illustrated, not to any of his future enemies or hunters at least. You learned many things with him that evening, from his young years in the military and how his night had gotten better since meeting you. "It's wonderful, to have such a beauty like you visit such a dull country." He had you blushing and knew how to mess with your young heart. 

"You're just saying that, Vlad," a smile on your lips. It was bizarre how he went from Vladimir to Vlad, a short name that meant too much to a man like him. "Well, it's true, my dear," his smile winning you over. He didn't know your real job and you didn't know his. That night, you made a friend, someone you hold dear. That night, he made a lover, a puppet to his future. 

[Six years ago]

[middle of nowhere]

"Where are you taking me?" a blindfold on you as your boyfriend, Vlad, took you to yet another date. "You'll see my dearest," he whispers against your soft skin. Warm breeze hit your skin. The ocean, as free as you and him yearned to be. "Suprise my love," his thick accent melting your heart. The blindfold off you, you smile and hug him. This day, all truth was told, no arguments, just two lovers understanding each other's lives. "No no, my love, I would never hurt you," a promise he knows to keep. "And you wouldn't betray me, right love?" His hands cupped your delicate face as you nod. "I would never," you whisper as you feel his lips fall on yours. 

From then on, no one knew who he was to you. But to his comrades, friends and family you were the girl who held his heart. The task force all thought you were just like them, stuck to the mission and not to civilian love. Dancing with the devil, making love to him and promising your all. An engagement ring that hangs with your dog tags. Secret love to never be told. 

[Five years ago]

"Who is this?" Soap and Gaz looked at the photograph. "Vladimir Makarov, a Russian nationalist, born during the USSR," Laswell responded. "He's the target," her lips said. A knot at your throat, this can't be, you have to warn him. "Y'alright love?" Ghost's hand on your back. You nod. "Yeah, I'm just thinking," you turn to him. He nods, "Right, well, what do you think we should do?" He encouraged you, the new lieutenant of the team, no longer a cadet officer. It was something he pushed you to, to be the best. Proud smile on him when you ran up to him with the news. "I say we start with intel," you look at the photograph once more. It was your Vlad, no doubt. "Right, sergeants with me, Ghost and Grim stay behind for Laswell's next intel ask," Price nodded and left. 

Days passed and Operation Golf was established. Ghost taught you how to perfect your ghillie suit. He just liked how you tried to make yours better than his, which always turned into, 'which Lt. wore it better'.

By midnight, as Ghost went to sleep, you left base to meet with Vladimir. Price and the two other men in a different country, looking for him. "What is it, my love?" His gloved hands held your face. "They are now gathering intel on you. They believe you are still in Russia," you spoke in Russian. He chuckles, "Shame that I'm here, isn't it," his lips meet yours. Your nose is cold and now warmed by his kiss. "Don't trust no one, not even Ivan," you warn him. "I only trust my beautiful love," he kisses you again. "Now, let me hold my precious darling before she plays pretend." And that night, was the first of many rendezvous's he took for you whilst you play ally to the task force. 

[Four years ago]

You were on an operation with some old teammates from a past squad when Price got a hold of you. "Grim, it's that Captain Price guy!" A teammate calls out. You answer the call. "Prisoner 627 is now in Russia," Price proudly spoke. 627, a number unique to the case the military had opened for Makarov alone. Your wedding ring is hung with the dog tags. "Copy, out." You say over the call. That night, your bedroom was not filled with the call of your dearest lover. It's strange, to play pretend with the family you made as a soldier and to play feign with the man you call home as a wife. All in the name of love and war. 

Months pass and you play calmly. No husband, just an enemy in some Russian prison. "Y'okay bonnie?" Soap sat beside you during mess hall. "Yeah, just a bit tired from that training," you lie. The sleepless nights you have thought about your husband. You look around the table, no one knowing you knew what would come next from Konni. In the end, it wouldn't be you who got betrayed again. Not tortured, especially not by the men in your husband's team that guarded your life with theirs. 

Mission after mission, you would go to a country near Russia. Have meetings with people on your husband's side, and hear how he would escape prison. Asked you to stay away from his people when the day arrived. Play good, he would remind you. You know the date, time, how and when it would happen. The plan is all memorised in your head. You knew the people that would break him free, you knew it all and yet no one in 141 was aware. 

[Three years ago]

On yet another mission, you got news of Vladimir. He isolated himself, prepared for when he would see you again. Sent letters to you occasionally. Details of love no one would see from a man like him. A love for all movie lovers to never witness. You roamed the home he set out to be his and yours, no one, not even his best soldier knew that home existed. It was days like these that you wished to have stayed in bed and kissed his body, all details to be taken in for when you waited to once more kiss him. 

The picture of the secret wedding was held between your fingers. A smile he dreams to see as he awaits the prison break. The man who was set to believe evil held your hand and promised an entire lifetime of love. "I'm sorry," you whisper as your gaze focuses on the 141 emblem. 

"Never be sorry, never, what they did to you is cruel, you never do that to a woman who was oathed in," fury escaped his lips. It was the night he finally told you all about him. He kissed the scars that the torture room left. In that moment, all else who dared question you, especially the rats of 141 would pay for what they did to his darling. Maybe he did corrupt you, but those scars, the lies they believed and the truths they never heard from you, were way before he met you. He believed in loyalty, good or evil, opposing or not. And the way you told him how you held the oath of being a soldier dear to you, he admired it. He believes that loyalty is essential, and if you are loyal to who you are, he applauds it. 

[Two years ago]

A mission gone wrong, a phone call from within the prison. All he sacrificed to just hear you say, "I'm fine, honey." With that oh-so-soft voice of yours. A sigh of relief came from his lips. This was a reminder he would always be around even from within a guarder tower of hell. His men would always guard you, even if they fought 141, you were never the target. KorTac had a target on their backs when Vladimir found out they were the ones responsible for the bullet on your shoulder. "What is it?" He asked the guard. "The girl has been injured, gunfight at some mission." He had people that worked for him within the guards, and when the news arrived to him, that's when for the first time in his life, he feared life and a gun. Vladimir Makarov is a villain in everyone's eyes. In your eyes that hold paradise, he is peace. He is Vlad, your husband. 

Whilst waiting for Soap to get cleared from the medics, you played with the ring on your necklace. "Oh, R/N, has some lover?" Gaz was the first to notice. Ghost's stare went to you, eyes wide as he heard the words he never needed to hear. Your blush told the words his heart never wanted to hear. 

[One year ago]

[Las Almas, Mexico]

"Are you threatening us?" Ghost asked and in that moment, he made you back away. Guarding you with his body. Betrayal, the first of many he would see with you. That became the night you escaped the shadows of Commander Graves. Soap was somewhere in the city, Ghost and you escaped every chance the shadows had at catching you. Imprisonment is something you got Colonel Vargas out of. Ironic. By the end, you killed him, the man who used his shadows, in some explosion. "You alright, love?" Ghost asked as you went to the aircraft quietly. "Yeah, Mexico just tired me," your head hung as you played with the dog tags. "Who's the lover?" He finally acknowledged the ring. "No one, it's just a silly joke," you lie, something he knew well. "Hmm, yeah...a silly joke," he turned away from you. 

[Present day, 21 November 2023 ] 

[London, England]

The last time you saw them all as a team, well, now that you were sure you'd be a newfound enemy. With Makarov now out of prison, prisoner 627, your love called for him. As Ghost looked through the CCTV cameras, one of the men in Konni gave you the signal. And as you approached, you caught a glimpse of him. Your heart flutters and then you look at Ghost. He nodded and you pretended to try and fight against Makarov. Czar-9-0 Actual. The callsign of your husband and the name of the man you betrayed them for. Guns blazing, bullets directed at them, not you. Gaz and Ghost, a team, Soap and Price, a team, 141, one unit. You, the wife of the enemy. Two bullets and then, the head hit the ground. Young soldier down. "What are you doing?!" Soap asked as you turned on them. A 20-year-old soldier died within seconds, you knew him from when he joined at 18. James, the man whose blood ran on your gun. 

Makarov fired, one of his men held your hand and brought you to your husband. The 141 patch off your uniform as now, you were given the Konni patch. "Welcome back, comrade," a man spoke with an evil grin. Ghost, the eyes that saw the betrayal again. 23 soldiers died, from both sides. 141 on the ground, trying to recover. 

--

"C'mon, Grim, you have to trust me on this, yeah?" the young lieutenant that made Ghost told you. "What if we fall?" you asked. "If you trust me, we won't and if I trust you, we will go home and get a pint or two," He smiles at you. From this day on, you and he became close, a bond no gun could break. 

--

Ghost swore you were taken hostage. And as Makarov was about to kill Captain Price, one of his men tapped him out. "No time, we will get him later!" Ghost's glare never left yours. He shook his head. This can't be, not his R/N. You looked at him, no remorse behind your eyes. It wasn't R/N, it was Grim that stared at him. The soldier he respected the most. You pointed your gun at one of the other soldiers with them. 

It turned into something bigger

Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed

He jumped at you, to not kill you but to bring you back and let Makarov run with Grim. You pushed him, what turned into a fight for his teammate to be back, became a fight against the enemy. You pushed him to the ground. "Ghost!" Gaz yelled as he saw your gun pointed at him. It was never Makarov that would be his demise. It wasn't an enemy. It was you. It was the one he held dear to his civilian self. The woman he would drink poison for. The one he jumped a bullet for when they were young cadets. Stupid, stupid, stupid. His eyes never left yours and for a second, he saw past Grim and noticed the scared R/N that obeyed her husband. 

Soldier down on that icy ground

Looked up at me with honor and truth

Broken and blue, so I called off the troops

That was the night I nearly lost you

You put your gun down and turn away, running to Vladimir. His open arms, ready to embrace his darling. Now, all of 141's secrets are with Makarov. It clicked in that instant. How four years ago Makarov knew who Ghost was. How well he knew all their names. It wasn't some file he saw when his hacker got in, no, it was you, the best of all pawns. The train cleaned your tracks. Price and the others stood in fear, all this time, you were part of Konni. Ghost stood in silence. 

In every war he was in, you were there. His favourite of all soldiers. From his early days as just Simon to his latest days as Ghost, all witnessed by you. He was the one who asked for you anywhere he went. His life came in a flash, all the Christmas events, the dinners and drinks he had with his friend...no...enemy. The one person who knew Simon liked the palm of her hand, now holding the man Ghost called an enemy. 

"How did he get to her so quickly?" Gaz asked, baffled to have lost you to the man you hated when this all began. "He had her all along," Kate spoke. Nikolai shook his head. "But how? We were her family," a betrayed Ghost said. "We betrayed her first," Price recalls. "But that was years ago," Soap comments. "It started years ago," Gaz mentions. "We weren't meant to win this one gentlemen," Kate informs.

"Fuck!" Ghost's blood boiled. He scared them, he knew that well. So when he slammed his fist on the table, he even made the best of soldiers flinch. "Lt," Soap tried to calm him down. "No, Johnny! You don't get it, you don't know her as I do," he approached the sergeant. "She didn't kill you, why?" Kate walks to the betrayed soldier. "What?" His voice is hoarse. "She had the chance to kill you, headshot even, yet she didn't, she ran to him and then when she did, all fire ceased." Kate is after all a mastermind. "She didn't betray Simon, she betrayed Ghost, she betrayed Soap, not Johnny, Gaz, not Kyle and Bravo six, not John." She states. 

"She betrayed soldiers, not family," Price came to realisation. Grim did that, Grim killed all that came between the goal. 'Capable of killing all those that come between her and the goal, will not hesitate to harm enemies.' The goal wasn't to kill Task Force 141, it was to get revenge for the betrayal, for torturing you in a room, letting your blood drip. You married a man, something all fools do. But even though Makarov wanted you to pull the trigger on Ghost, you didn't. You ran away and the fire ceased. 

There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair

A/N: see what I did there?...mastermind me y'know

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@tf141glory @liyanahelena @quaritchscupquake @dilfgestivo @thefragmented @scarletdfox @arialikestea @unicorngirly1 @alhaizen @willowaftxn83-87 @koniglovesme @bbyfimmie @mothcelestial @kit-kats06 @palomesa @dheet @dontfearthereaperazura

[joemama-2]

A SPRINKLE OF CURIOSITY

a/n: part two to “made with love”.

word count: 1859

toji x reader

tags/warning: angst, fluff

find part one here: made with love

toji wakes up with a pounding headache, like always. he really doesn’t want to get up but he knows he has to. rubbing his bleary eyes, he can faintly make out what room he is in. not his.

he can tell by the cleaner walls, the faint scent of something floral and a woman he doesn’t even remember the name of passed out to his right. from the view of her bare back on display, he can piece together that he had maybe a little too much to drink last night.

toji never stays long enough for them to wake up, so like routine, he finds his scattered pieces of clothing, putting them back on. it feels uncomfortable, dried semen making the boxers feel a little too tight. and like the stealthy man he is, he slips out the bedroom and apartment without much noise.

he doesn't even remember what city he's in, but he can only assume it's not close. having picked up a small job shiu assigned to him yesterday in the hokkaido prefecture, he hasn't been in the comfort of his own place for a couple days now.

he slowly walked to the nearest ATM, pulling out his card to check his balance. and would you look at that? still 0. now he’s pissed. he’s stranded in some city he doesn’t know with no money to get back and the job he was there for in the first place didn’t even pay him. those motherfuckers.

he huffs and pulls out his phone, calling his handler's number. without even waiting, as soon as he picks up, toji is quick to express his annoyance. "where's my damn deposit?"

shiu's tired chuckle sounds through the receiver. "relax, it's a weekend. won't come in until tomorrow."

of course. "then how the hell am i supposed to get back?"

"like you have a home?"

toji's eye twitches, grip tightening around the small cellular device. "keep talking, i'll rip that tongue out your mouth."

with a sigh, the other man responds. "jesus christ, you can't go one day without bitching. i left some cash in your pocket."

"how much?" toji's hand feels for the money, reaching in to grab it out and count it, balancing the phone between his shoulder and ear. "is this enough for a train ticket?"

"if you didn't use it already, then yeah."

and another huff before toji closes the screen of his phone, effectively ending the call.

so this was basically the lead up to where toji currently finds himself. after hours of a stiff chair that hurt his ass, stiff air, and the smell of elderly all around him, he practically throws himself into his small, run-down apartment and onto the mattress. there's no bed frame, hell there's barely anything inside, but it's enough for him. the tiny sheet crumples underneath his large form as he gets comfy, a small sigh escaping him.

everything is just as he left it, dishes in the sink, an old takeout box and the counter and the TV playing some who knows what show. damn it, was that on the whole time he was gone? now his bill will be even higher. there's never a moment of peace with toji, even after days and days of where he honestly deserves it.

his eye peak open, hand reaching for the remote to shut the TV off. just as the screen blanks, something instantly catches his attention. one that makes him sit up, despite his fatigue. it looks so out of place, like it doesn't belong. and quite frankly, it doesn't.

the pink box is vibrant against the cold surface of his kitchen counter, standing out like it directly has a light shone on it. it's almost taunting him, enticing him to come closer. and toji has never been one to show a lot of self-restraint. when it comes to you though, he didn't think he could try harder.

but he finds himself standing up and walking to the box. the heart drawn on top causes an eyebrow to raise as he opens it. there's nothing inside. after having got home from the encounter with you, he was hesitant to bite into the first cookie. but he's glad that he did. they tasted better than any other sweet he had tasted. the powder littered his lips and the soft jelly exploded into his mouth like fireworks. before he knew it, all five treats were gone in the matter of minutes.

but the box is still here for some reason. why he kept it and now threw it out as soon as he finished is questionable, but toji chalks it up to being lazy. because why else would he keep it? he sighs and closes the box again.

he falls back onto the mattress, eyes glued to the ceiling that has cracks and some mold growing. he really needs to move out. that thought is quickly thrown out when something else invades his brain. you.

your voice, your face, your stupid smile, and the words you told him. "love." the oh so holy pastries were made with your love. you were obviously joking, but an idiotic part of his mind entertains the idea that you weren't.

his head shakes. what are you doing? why is he acting this way about you? he barely knows you, you just own the bakery he knows. you're nothing more than a simple person who has no business getting involved with him. no, he has no business getting involved with you.

you're too kind, too sweet for him. he can't even see himself with another woman right now, not after his wife. at least, that's what he thinks. either way, there's no way someone like you would be interested in him. you probably have a loving family, a loving boyfriend. all in all, you have something going for you. you have things to lose. he doesn't. oh and of course, the main part of it all,

you're a complete normie.

you probably don't even know about curses, let alone sorcerers. you're probably one of those people who blame it on life's obstacles, the unwarranted negativity. but maybe you're just so damn positive all the time that you do literally the opposite of attracting curses. curses are formed from negative emotions, and you don't seem like you have those. that's what he thinks.

you see, toji has a very bad habit of assuming things. he's here having this entire dilemma on the kind of person you are when he knows jack shit about you. that's wrong, he knows. but toji....toji does a lot of wrong things. a very shitty justification, but toji is a shitty person.

would you think so too?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------——

it's been about a week, give or take, since he last saw you. but no matter where he goes or who he's killing, it's like the simplest things remind him of you. this is unhealthy, honestly. growing attached way too quick and way too easily, he has a lot of things to fix up on.

pink reminds him of you. puppies remind him of you. rainbows remind him of you. sweets remind him of you. and the sun reminds him of you.

so as you can see, you're everywhere he goes. following him when he wants nothing more than to get away. you must be a witch.

he just wants to gouge his own eyes out at this point, anything will save him from the restraints of adoring someone. he likes to think he's strong. wait no, he knows he's strong. but for some reason, you make him weak. and toji hates being weak. he confronts those who try to make him seem like he's anything but the terrifying killer he is and makes them beg for mercy.

which is why, he's currently back in the god forsaken place that started it all.

and what are you doing? greeting him like he's an old friend, like you've known each other for years. it makes him sick.

"you're back." you say, almost sounding relieved. do you always greet customers like this? or is it just him? "did you like my love?"

he wishes you would just stop referring to your treats as your damn love, it makes him want to hate you even more. "yeah." is all he says, a small scowl present with his arms crossed over his chest.

"tooooold you." you chuckle.

he wants to scoff at your cockiness, at your playfulness. can you just stop being so damn cute? silence follows as he stares you down, but you don't look the slightest bit bothered by it. why aren't you? do you think you're better than him?

"i'm assuming you came back for more." he didn't, but you're already completing the same routine as last time, picking a box and filling it. "we have some new ones this week, so i'll give you some of those. unless you really liked the ones from last time, we still have the custard ones, so i can give you that to--"

"what's your name?" he cuts you off, firmly.

you momentarily still, eyes flicking back up to his over the counter, he's still looking at you. as you stand back to your full height, you're slightly confused. however, you tell him. "y/n."

he knows he's in deep shit when just your name gives him butterflies. and hearing you say it? he just wants to grab you from over the counter and kiss you until you can't even rem--

he clears his throat. god, he's too horny.

"y/n what?"

"y/n l/n."

"are you lying?"

you snort a laugh. "who lies about their name?"

you're right, who does do that? "suspicious people."

"am i suspicious?" your head tilts in an frustratingly adorable manner.

no, he thinks. you're anything but. you seem like you wear your heart on your sleeve and you just seriously might be the most genuine person he's met. but then again, he doesn't know you, so this might all be a facade. you might actually be a two-faced bitch. "a little."

you hum softly and nod. with a small look to the ceiling, in thought, you say the most ridiculous thing ever. "well, how about we change that?"

a scoff breaks through. "how?"

and he supposes this entire time, you were filling the box and closing it back with the same sticker and heart from before. "you can get to know me." scratch that, that was the most ridiculous thing he ever heard you say.

"no." is his automatic response.

"why not?"

"i'm not looking for friends."

"we don't have to be friends." you say, sliding the box over to him. "but we can know each other's name at least. and since you already know mine......" you trail off as he gets the hint to what you're saying.

hesitation floods him because you really could be a spy or a fake. telling you his name could be dangerous and what if you try to report him to some authorities or something.

he's overthinking if you couldn't already tell.

but, he's getting older and probably won't have much more time left with what his occupation is. he's taken risks before, so what's one more? and again, you're right. how can he assume you're not really who you say you are if he doesn't find out himself.

so, with a deep exhale, his fingers twitching against his arm, he tells you. "toji fushiguro."

[god-has-entered-my-body]

If you're too shy // pt.2 - Matty Healy

A/N: shit banner because i've fallen off xx. Anyway this was written whilst listening to the arctic monkeys debut which is absolute SHIT by the way 0/10 i'd rather listen to margaret thatcher's sex tape thanks.

wc: 4k

content warnings: literally nothing happens its a bit said, body writing, teasing, begging, sub!Matty being pathetic as per use, cliffhanger because the google doc told me to

They say feeling diminishes over time, sensations are lost to memories, forgotten. What Matty was experiencing couldn’t be further from the truth. Hazy daydreams inhabit his every waking thought, dreams only more and more vivid as time passed. Time didn't diminish the feeling of your hands on him, hot skin against his. It only intensified it, a certain sense of longing plaguing him. Longing for you. 

It’s an out of body experience, being in your presence. Your knowing glances when your eyes meet, an expression on your face only he can truly decipher. Matty dreams of you, so graphically that it leaves him panting in his bed, shaking hands running through unbrushed curls as he tries to collect himself, tries to push it down. 

But his hands cant help but wander, tracing over where you had touched him, goosebumps spreading onto his skin as the scene plays back in his mind. You, above him, forcing him down onto the floor. The way his knees ached at the harsh pressure of the linoleum floor. Your fingers dragging past his parted lips, pressing down onto his tongue, relishing in the sounds that escaped him. The small glimpse of your skin, the dark lace against your thigh a constant reminder of what could've been. What could still be. 

He doesn't know what you’re thinking, even if he yearns for your thoughts. You won't speak to him, you haven't since that day. It's painful, watching you live on like nothing had passed between the two of you, the only communication being a small, unassuming look, a brush of the hand. Nothing more, nothing less. 

This lesson is no different, loud chatter filling the space as the class gets into groups, working on some assignment. Matty sits on his desk, feet scuffing the seat of his chair as Ross gestures at his latest hookup, staring at him from across the room. You vaguely recognise her from a few of your other classes. She’s meek and quiet, bordering on pushover with the way she lets her friends walk all over her, but quite kind overall. 

His voice is loud, booming through the classroom as he laughs and jokes, refusing to pay any attention to the assignment despite the teacher's numerous attempts to get him to focus. His presence is altered in your eyes, different. The thing that had passed between the two of you can't be ignored just so, and you know he feels it too, his eyes boring a hole into the back of your head. It's when you unexpectedly turn around that his breath hitches, stuttering over a simple sentence. His little mistake going seemingly unnoticed, Ross keeps speaking, leaving Matty to stare at you, eyes darting all over your face, trying to read your expression. 

You remain neutral, raising your eyebrows at him in a sort of silent question. Matty cocks his head in turn, almost like a challenge, deep brown eyes narrowing slightly. The scrape of that chair against the floor is piercing, though no one around you pays it any mind. Bending over the desk, back facing him, a piece of paper is ripped out of your fairly expensive notebook, the scratch of pen against it oddly satisfying, your handwriting forming loopy, inky blue letters. Your fingers feel over the writing, the dips where your pen indented that simple message feel rough against your skin. 

People crowd the room, making it difficult to maneuver through it, bags hitting against your feet wherever you stepped. Muttering quiet excuses, your hand clutches the piece of paper, almost like it would disappear if it wasn't for your grip. Matty’s eyes follow you, intrigued, raking up your bare legs as you walk in his direction, staring him down.

To anyone else, nothing seems out of the ordinary in the way that you accidentally bump against the edge of the desk he’s sitting on, your right hand grabbing on to it for stability as you apologize to no one in particular. Only Matty sees the white, neatly folded note you had left right next to his hip, tucking it under a book you knew he never used. He shivers as your fingers make contact with his belt, something he wouldn't have even noticed if it wasn't your touch. 

The whole world slows down as he snatches it from under the textbook, unengaged enough in the conversation at this point that he could turn his body away from the group unnoticed, unfolding the note. His heart speeds up as he immediately recognises your handwriting, eyes over scanning the words. 

His body moves instinctively, getting up from his spot on the wooden desk, creaking slightly as a girl's voice asks where he’s going. 

“Bathroom.” he mutters under his breath, his vague answer raising a few suspicions. The group's attention is quickly turned to the teacher standing a few feet away, sternly telling them off. Matty manages to slip away. You disappear out the door just as he looks up from the note, his feet carrying him after you. 

6th period is always quiet, an atmosphere of calm falling over the school building as the light streamed in from the high windows, still  most of the corridor fairly dark. Blue lockers adorned the walls, dented and damaged from decades of use by previous generations of students. The echo of your shoes against the floor fill Mattys ears, the sound only adding to the anticipation already coursing through his veins. 

His mind races with jumbled thoughts, questions upon questions being asked. Where were you going? What were you going to do? 

No, what were you going to do to him? A shaky exhale from Matty is loud in the silence of the hall, his fists clenching and unclenching at his ideas as he walks after you, keeping a few paces behind. You don't even stop to glance over your shoulder, almost like you knew he would follow you, not a single doubt in your mind. Matty realizes this, and it only makes him even more desperate for you to just acknowledge him, a slight turn, a look, anything. 

The few moments you lead him feel like hours, your eyes darting past doors and full classrooms until you stop in your tracks, hearing the scuffle of Matty’s trainers as he stops behind you, unmoving. The door creaks as you twist the doorknob, an empty, darkened room greeting you. The air is cold, dust particles fly through it as you step inside, letting the door start to fall shut behind you. Matty runs in just as it's about to close, holding his palm flat against the wood, lips parting when his eyes finally land on you. 

The note is warm in his hand as he recalls what he had read on the page, three simple words sending him into a spiral of all-consuming emotions.

‘Don’t be obvious.’

No context was given, none was needed. Matty knew exactly what you meant.

“Why are you here?” his voice comes out shaky and unsteady, meek. Unlike him. He knows the question sounds stupid, evident in the smug grin that spreads onto your face as the door falls shut behind him. Finally facing him, you lean against a desk, arms reached behind you, holding you up. 

“Could ask the same for you.” you speak slowly, your inflection almost making you seem bored. Your hair occupies you as you twirl it around, eventually brushing it out of your face entirely. Matty takes a timid step forward, holding the now unfolded piece of paper up between two fingers, the ink now slightly smudged. 

“You left me a note.” “I know.” Your response is quick, direct. Matty’s eyes are glazed over, the sight oh-so familiar. 

Memories from that day rush through you, your body responding involuntarily. You can still feel his hands caressing your things, hiking your skirt up further, further, until he finally saw what he wanted. His mouth around your fingers, tongue lapping at your fingertips, eye contact remaining unbroken. The thought makes your head spin, a barely there blush creeping onto your cheeks.

“Why?” you tut at him, getting up and standing straight as he continues slowly walking over to you, his hair falling over his face in the same way it did when he was knelt in front of you, looking up with those adoring eyes of his.

“You didn't really listen to me, hm?” Matty perks up at your statement, slightly confused. You run a finger up his arm, feeling goosebumps erupt on his skin. He twitches, his whole body reacting to your touch. 

“I mean you weren't, were you? Not-obvious, I mean.” You watch as it finally clicks in his head. The note. 

‘Don't be obvious.’ 

He had tried to not be, his half-hearted attempts at keeping his distance proving rather difficult as instinct took over him, not caring what he was ‘supposed’ to do. 

You huff at his lack of response as he just stands there, looming above you. You aren't tall, not by a long shot, but somehow your difference in height doesn't play a role in the way he molds to your words, like putty in your hands. 

“What do you want?” you scoff in his face, rolling your eyes. Your nails graze against his upper arm before pulling away completely. Matty watches as you circle around him slowly, like a predator watching prey, your gaze making every survival instinct dissipate. 

“That's quite the loaded question, don't you think?” Matty nods in response, automatically. You watch him for a few moments as he lets the note drop to the floor. His breathing is unsteady as you get closer with every step, his body moving to keep facing you until his back hits the same wooden desk you had been leaning on. 

“Are you nervous?” Matty clears his throat before answering, caught off-guard by your sudden question. 

“What gives you that impression?”

You gesture downwards with your eyes, and he follows, growing red as he realizes what you meant. His untucked shirt is crumpled in his hands, fingers toying with the buttons as he mindlessly twists them around and ‘round, pulling at the fabric. 

“That.”

Matty ceases his movements, his hands now glued to his side as you eye him up and down. The top three buttons on his shirt are undone, revealing his collarbones and neck, skin smooth and milky as your first instinct is to reach out and touch him. 

“Do I make you nervous?” your voice cracks a bit towards the end, the illusion of calmness, of indifference, faltering. Matty just stares at you, his heart beating at a thousand miles an hour as you take a step closer, effectively pinning him against the desk. Now, he could easily push you away, putting distance between your bodies. But he doesn't. He doesn't want to. 

“Answer me.”

A beat of silence.  

“No, you don’t.”

You tut again, shaking your head in disappointment. Matty squirms under your touch as you trail your hand up his chest, popping a four button as you speak.  

“I never took you for a liar, Matthew.” The condescension coating your words makes his eyes widen, looking down at you with a wanton look on his face, silently begging. 

You reach down with your free hand, looping your fingers through his belt loops. Rather violently, you pull him towards you, pressing your bodies flush against each other. Matty’s reaction is delicious, a whimper spilling from his lips, the proximity making him hazy, wanting only one, single thing. 

“D’you want me to kiss you?” you coo, your faces dangerously close as you tease him, his curls threading through your fingers as he nods vigorously, absolutely shameless. 

“Please.” it’s high pitched, the word, only adding to the growing heat between your legs. Your knees feel weak as he reacts to you, eyes wide and rapidly blinking, darting from your lips back up to meet yours. 

“How do I know you’re not lying to me again?” it’s mean, you know it is, but you cant help yourself. His horrified expression only feeds into your taunts, a grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You read him well, perfectly predicting the way you knew he was going to try to bring your lips together, impatient as ever. 

His attempt is futile, your tight grip in his hair pulling him back, the sharp pain making him cry out. 

“Ah, not so fast sweetheart.” his tongue darts out to wet his lips, not daring to move further. His breath hitches audibly as you skifully unbutton the rest of his shirt, his eyes never leaving your face even as you look down. 

“I thought you were going to be good for me, what happened?” you say, the dissatisfaction evident in your voice. Matty stutters out an apology, tripping over his words as the sensation of your hand against his chest becomes too much at once, too hot. 

He shudders as you feel him up, hand running through his hair to ground himself, hyper aware of the unlocked door of the classroom you’re currently in. His shirt fully unbuttoned, you take a small step back, eyes raking over his body, taking in the sight before you. 

“Don’t stop– please– I want you.”

“Then be still.” Matty nods in response, shifting around until he finally sits on top of the desk, feet dangling slightly off the edge. 

“So obedient now, what changed?” Your hands feeling around the pockets of your skirt, smiling when they come upon exactly what you were hoping to find. 

“I-” Matty cuts himself off, words getting caught in the base of his throat. His voice is low, raspy as he tries to answer, but your fluid movements distract him too much. 

“Go on, speak.” your tone is assertive, commanding even, only disorienting him more. Matty doesn't know what to feel, how to react. But what he does know is how to keep this from stopping. He doesn't ever want it to stop. 

“You’re so pretty.”

He knows he sounds pathetic, but it's all he can muster, every fiber of his being telling him to lunge forward, smash his lips against yours, feel you against him. 

“Well, sweetheart.” you giggle, pulling out a small object from the depths of your pockets, running your fingers over the cool metal. “Flattery gets you everywhere.” 

A sigh of relief leaves Matty as your hands make contact with his neck, the feeling of your touch driving him insane. He arches into you, his chest pressing against yours as you linger, a thousand fantasies rushing through both your minds. 

A high-pitched whine rips itself from Matty as your lips press against the hollow of his throat, biting into the skin harshly. Nipping at his neck, you relish in the noises he makes, his eyes screwing shut as you run your tongue over his collarbones, coating the skin in your spit. 

The small click of a lipstick tube uncapping is deafening, his eyes immediately snapping the source of the noise. You grin at his reaction, hands gripping the edge of the desk he was sitting on so hard, you could see his knuckles turning white. 

“What are you–” Matty starts, his body flushed the same shade of red as the product in your hand, complimenting it perfectly. 

You shush him quickly as he looks at you and then the lipstick, his bottom lip bitten raw. 

“I didn’t really know what this was at first, you know.” you speak, twisting the base of the lipstick, slowly revealing more and more of the ruby red. Matty’s full attention is on you, his chest moving up and down rapidly, trying to calm himself down. His watery eyes only spur you on, small pants leaving his lips as you resume your feather light touches, never giving him exactly what he wanted. 

“You’re so responsive, I barely have to touch you.” you watch as he writhes under you, still taller despite being sat down. It didn't make a difference, the power he so willingly handed over to you making it all disappear. 

“You’d let me do anything to you.” 

It isn't even a question but a statement, because you know, and so does Matty. Sweat glistens on his bare chest, reflecting the little light in the room, making him appear to be glowing. You don't know how long you’ve been in that classroom, and frankly, you couldn’t care less. 

“Please, I can't do this anymore. Fuckk– just touch me, properly, please.” 

His words lick pleasure up your spine and you let him beg more, a small, cruel part of you wanting to prolong this even further. Knowing you couldn't, and that your teacher was most definitely noticing your prolonged absence, you sigh loudly, cupping his face with one hand, a sickly sweet smile making Matty’s head spin. 

“If you even try moving, I’ll stop.” 

Matty expects you to put your hands on him, run them over his body, maybe make him kneel again. He expects you to finally kiss him, feel your tongue against his as you take over him completely, barely letting him breathe.

What he doesn't expect is for you to drop to your knees in front of him. 

The tip of the lipstick against his skin is cool, the product smearing over his stomach. Matty doesn't know how to react, his eyes peering down to get a clear glimpse of what you’re doing, not daring to move. He sees the distinct pattern of letters, the word you’re writing indiscernible from his angle. 

“Perfect.” 

You mutter as you watch the color glide over his skin, the contrast of red against it making your heart beat faster, hand shaking slightly. He can't control the small twitches of his body as you hold onto his thigh for stability, adding a small heart at the end of your little masterpiece. A single word. 

Pushing yourself off the floor, Matty tried to make out the writing on his body, failing miserably. Your phone is heavy in your hand as you swipe right, opening your camera app. He isn't paying attention to you at all, watching in awe how the red on his stomach beautifully stands out, running a finger over it lightly. 

“Smile.” you grin, his eyes snapping up to meet yours just in time for the camera to flash. 

He looks breathtaking, shirt unbuttoned, his hair messily falling into his face. The flash darkens the background behind him, making him the sole focus of the picture. You admire him for a few moments, a fond smile spreading onto your face. He looks utterly fucked out, despite your touches being barely-therea at best, it was enough.

It’s only then that you finally kiss him, hand wrapping around the base of his neck as you lick into his mouth, greedily drinking in his soft moans of surprise. Matty’s hands find your lower back, moving up and down your sides before finally settling onto your waist, gripping it tightly. 

The kiss is hot, desperate as Matty’s back arches, your other hand finding its place on his shoulder. The feeling of his hands on your waist shoots straight to your core, your thighs pressing together in an attempt to relieve some of that aching pressure. 

You’re first to pull away, lungs burning for air. Fingers raking through his hair, you take your phone back out, flashing the screen at him. His eyes widen at the image of him, the word you had painted onto him clearly visible. 

‘Sweetheart’ adorned the tensed muscles of his stomach, a small heart placed right after the word, your handwriting easily recognisable. Your fingers ghost over the writing, smudging the heart slightly, bringing it up to his lips. 

Matty parts them instinctively, letting you brush the color onto his bitten and bruised lips, faintly red. The sight makes you stop dead in your tracks, and you suck in a deep breath.

“I think you look gorgeous, don't you think?” you whisper into his ear, taking his earlobe between your teeth as you lightly bite down, greatly enjoying the choked gasp that leaves him. Matty is speechless, eyes glued to the screen now in his hands. 

“We’ve been gone an awfully long time,” you breathe, gesturing at the clock that hung above the rusty chalkboard at the front of the classroom. “Better get back.”

Matty grabs onto you in protest, almost letting your phone drop onto the floor. 

“Please, I can't–” you cut him off again, pressing a finger to his lips in a condescending manner, watching the look of hope vanish from his face. 

“School is actually rather important to me, I can't have my grades dropping.” your words sound oddly sincere as you toy with the bottom of Matty’s shirt, slowly doing up the buttons again. The red disappears behind the crisp black fabric, completely unnoticeable to anyone else but the two of you. Your little secret. 

Matty wants to argue, but he knows better than to contradict you, instead letting you fix him up. Your hands brush his hair out of his face, flushed an adorable shade of pink, making you smile. You even fix his collar for him, making sure it wasn't flipped up or open, your lingering fingers tracing his jawline tenderly.

“How else am I meant to tutor you if I don't know the material?”

Your words pierce through Matty’s thoughts, bringing him back down to earth. It wasn't just a statement, but a promise. Promise of more of whatever this was, a glimmer of hope returning to him. He wanted this more than fucking anything, even if your constant, deliberate, teasing drove him mad.

“Come to mine on Wednesday, i’ll show you how to do the assignment.” The way you speak is so casual, so normal, like nothing had just happened. Matty wonders if it had all been a weird, messed up daydream, but the phone in his hand proved him wrong. He hands the phone to you timidly, not wanting to let go of that moment. 

Straightening out your own clothes, you take it from him, tucking it away in your pocket. Matty wants to reach out, touch you, feel you again. He stops himself, your back now turned as you walk away, hand resting on the doorknob.

You glance over your shoulder before you open the door, shooting him a tantalizing grin.

“Don’t miss me too much, sweetheart.'' 

The pet name does something to him he can't describe, a floaty, disorienting cloud falling over his thoughts. Matty’s blush returns, his face hot. 

Wednesday. He keeps repeating the sentence in his mind.

‘Don't miss me too much, sweetheart’ 

How cant, not when you leave him like this, desperate and wanting nothing more than any little bit you’d give him, every touch like pure ecstasy. 

Five days. 

Five incredibly long days. 

One hundred and twenty hours until he finally sees the inside of your bedroom, until youre finally, finally alone. 

Matty lets his fingers trace the word over the material of his shirt, heart pounding in his chest. The shrill ring of the bell is muted as he replays the scene in his mind, over and over again. Your hand on his thigh, kneeling in front of him. The lipstick against his skin, the bright flash of your phone. 

Wednesday can't come any faster, but he still wishes it would.   

[mags6422]

It Happened One November - Part 11

Part 10 | 0 | Part 12

Bill doesn't know why he thought the world would suddenly be different, now that he knew for sure that monsters were real. After he had spent the night out battling them with nothing but an axe and a bad attitude. After he had climbed down into hell with Steve Harrington and a gaggle of children to light up the dark in flames. After sharing a tender kiss with that same boy as he tended his wounds in the aftermath.

Nothing ever really changed.

Neil had laid into Billy as soon as he and Max finally made it back to the house and he made sure that every time Billy took a deep breath he would remember the lesson he beat into his ribs. Made sure that every small shift of his shirt on his back would send sparks of ‘respect and responsibility’ over the welts from his belt. 

And Billy was just itching with the need to spread those lessons around. Make it everyone else's problem. If he had to be in pain, he'd be damned if everyone else wasn't as well. He'd burn the whole world down just to make sure.

Did it take away his own pain? Absolutely not. But fuck did it feel good to be the one making someone else hurt for once. To feel even a spark of power over his own life. Over the world around him. 

Monday morning rolls around and Billy makes it through the whole morning doing his usual post Neil thing. He slams two Hellfire freaks into their lockers, smacks some other dweebs books out of their hand and trips Andy from the basketball team when he's not paying attention to where he's going. 

It doesn't help. 

He doesn't feel that rush of power. He just pictures Henderson's face on the teary eyed, shaking freaks. Sees Nancy’s disappointed frown in the dweeb’s embarrassed flush and Steve's hurt expression when he looks at Andy sprawled on the ground at his feet. 

Fuck! Did something in those upside down spores infect him?! Turn him into a fucking pussy? A fucking fa- 

No. It wasn't the spores that did that. He's always been that. That's why his dad packed up their family and moved them halfway across the fucking country. Away from the sun and surf and open minded fucking people to the fucking bible belt where it was ok to fuck your cousin so long as it's not your first cousin. Fucking backward ass town.

Billy makes it about ten minutes into lunch, not-listening to Tommy and Carol’s usual bitching before something they are saying catches his ear.

“Oh shit! Wheeler’s holding Byers hand! Damn the girl moves fast. For a priss she sure is a fucking slut. You think she had them both at once?” 

Billy hasn't even realized that he's moved until he finds himself standing over Tommy’s prone form on the ground from where he's roughly pushed him and his chair over onto the cafeteria floor. 

“What the hell man?!” Tommy screeched.

What the hell indeed. It's not like he gave a shit what rumours went around about Wheeler. Right? His mind supplies an image of Nancy standing tall and proud, a rifle in her hands as she faces the front door of the Byers, ready and willing to shoot whatever came through that door. Whatever would have ripped Billy to shreds like Mrs. Byers boyfriend. 

“You keep her name out of your fucking mouth, Hagan.” 

“Since when do you care about Priss Pants Wheeler?” Hissed Tommy as he scrambled upright, getting up in Billy's face.

Yes ! This is what he needs! Maybe a real fight will snap him out of whatever funk he's been in all morning! Billy laughs and gets right up in Tommy's business, faces practically touching; they are so close. And the electric energy is back, crackling through his veins, in his fingers, down his spine.

“Since now, bitch,” he doesn't yell, doesn't need to, there's no way Tommy can't hear him. He knows what he looks like when he gets like this, an eager, crazy light in his eyes. He knows Tommy can see it, can see how this will play out, how Billy is going to obliterate him. But Tommy started this so he can't back out, not now the whole cafeteria is watching them, just as excited for blood as Billy himself is. 

“Teacher!” It's Jason Carver, one of the other juniors on the basketball team. Billy doesn't look. Billy's not stupid, you don't take your eye off the other guy when you're in a fight. But sure enough, a second later Mrs. Click’s nasally voice is speaking up. 

“What did we talk about Tommy! One more fight on school grounds and you're getting expelled! Don't make me get the principal down here!” Mrs. Click isn't dumb enough to try and get between the boys but she's standing just out of the danger zone, arms crossed and tapping her foot. “Tommy, you sit right back down where I can see you. Mr. Hargrove, I suggest you finish your lunch elsewhere.” 

Billy turns and gives her his best smile, the one he turns on for older women, the one that lets him get away with anything. He can see that it's flustering her but Mrs. Click stands her ground and points toward the doors leading outside. 

Billy snatches up his bag and is most of the way to the door before he notices the small table next to it. Nancy and Jonathan are whispering to each other but Steve is watching and gives him a little wave, kicking the seat out next to him in invitation. 

Billy hesitates. They hadn't talked about it. The kiss. Hadn't had a second to themselves since they left that bathroom. Then again, the whole school wasn't buzzing about how Billy Hargrove was a fucking queer so clearly Harrington hadn't talked to anyone else about it either.

Billy takes the offered seat.

Read the whole series on AO3

Part 10 | 0 | Part 12

[impossiblesuitcase]

The Duty of the Prince

“Psst! Kai!”

The classroom was still, the quiet only broken by the intermittent low thrum of the air conditioner and styluses scratching against portscreens. The ticking countdown loomed before them on the digital whiteboard. 

The whisper carried like a shout. “Kai!” shot past three identically neat rows of desks to where he sat.

Kai’s brow twitched. He re-read the question on his screen, attempting to block out the persisting voice.

“Hey!” it came again, “Hey Ka—”

“Lijun,” intoned their teacher Kang-dàren, “This is an individual assessment, not a group project. Leave Kai alone and return to your test.”

Lijun sagged back into his seat. A volley of giggles bounced off the walls but were quickly stifled by Kang-dàren’s steely look. Kai reached into his pocket, produced a tissue, and dabbed at his sweaty palms.

The class managed to restrain themselves until the clock ticked down to 0:00. Immediately students turned to their desk mates, whispering, “What did you get on question 5?” “That one on integers was bogus,” “I swear 90% of that wasn’t on the curriculum,” “More like 16%, which you would have been able to calculate if you had actually studied the curriculum, doofus.” The bell rang and everyone shuffled to the door as the teacher announced that their grades would be posted on Friday.

Outside, Kai detoured over to the rubbish bin to discard the tissue. When he turned, Lijun was cornering him between the lockers and the bin. “Why’d you ignore me?” he snapped.

Kai clutched his port to his chest, refusing to let intimidation reach his eyes. “We were in a test, Lijun.”

He scowled. His posse of minions sidled up to him, eyeing Kai with boyish smugness. “Whatever. I want you to come to my place after school. We’re going to play some games. Have some fun.”

The fun was laden with implication. Kai knew from the way this pack picked on the girls in their class and ganged up on the boys at recess that fun would be some form of torture for him. 

“I’m not interested,” Kai responded flatly, shoving past the wall of shoulders. 

“Hey!” one of the boys yelled, grabbing his elbow. “Don’t just walk off.”

When Kai pushed ahead all the same, the boy ripped his port from his hand and flung it on the ground. A crack rippled across the screen.

Kai snatched it up. “I’m going to go tell Kang-dàren that you’re harassing students.” He did his best to keep his voice level in the way he had heard his father speak when dealing with accusatory politicians. 

“Oh yeah,” Lijun mocked, “just because you’re the prince doesn’t mean you rule this place!”

Kai reached the door just before they grabbed his bag straps. He slipped inside the classroom. 

Kang-dàren glanced up. “Kai? What’s wrong?”

“Lijun again,” Kai said, holding up his portscreen as evidence.

She sighed, standing and spreading her hands on her desk. “I’ll go get him. You can leave out the back door.”

He nodded and waited until he heard her trudge to the hallway and inform the recalcitrant youths that their parents would be called again before he left for biology class.

Lijun was correct, though. Kai’s princely status did little at this school. Everyone here was elite—the children of politicians, dukes and dames, celebrities and billionaires. He was grateful for this normalisation. School was one of the only places he didn’t feel like the most famous thirteen-year-old in the world. But his lack of leverage did have its downsides. Particularly when it came to playground bullies.

After biology, Kai was walking past the front office on the way to the school canteen, his friend Yìchén by his side nattering about the latest update to Alien Invasion. Through the glass barrier, Kai saw Lijun slumped in a chair, his stern-looking father glaring down at him. He grabbed Yìchén’s arm, pulling them out of view.

“The game controls are way better now and—” Yìchén halted, glancing around in confusion.

The office door slid open. Lijun exited stiffly, his shoulder trapped under his father’s firm hand. When he saw Kai, his expression became impossibly more sour.

Kai darted his gaze to the floor, hoping to play it off as though they hadn’t noticed him.

Lijun didn’t like that. “You know, Your Highness,” he seethed. “You wouldn’t be the first royal that people got sick of. Remember what happened to Princess Selene?”

His father dragged him away, but Kai saw a quiver in his deep-set frown. The man, a cabinet member, was publicly against many of Emperor Rikan’s policies and a staunch supporter of an anti-monarchical democracy. Kai wasn’t surprised his son had followed in his footsteps.

Lijun mouthed a “Don’t push your luck” as he was led down the hallway. Kai could only look away.

Yìchén shivered, ever the coward despite his mother’s status as a military general. He was a gangly teen, about a ruler’s length taller than Kai, with his hair and eyes the same shade of brown and his cheeks covered in a smattering of pimples. His face was stuck in an interminable grimace. “He scares me.”

Kai tried to shake off the strange aura, but Lijun’s words were lodged in his mind. He worried, for the first time, that perhaps his taunts were more than childish insults. Perhaps Lijun would sooner see Kai fall into some horrible, fiery accident.

Just like Princess Selene.

———

“Everything okay, bud?” Dad asked.

Kai dropped his backpack to the floor, sliding onto the stool by the kitchen island. Dad placed a plate of red bean mooncakes in front of him. “Yeah. Just the regular school stuff.”

His father stood behind the bench, wiping his hands on his trousers. He was dressed more casually than normal: a cream t-shirt rather than his formal button-downs, suggesting he hadn’t had any meetings today. Kai liked when his dad didn’t have meetings. It usually meant that he would be less tired at the end of the day and that the two of them could do something fun together. Kai hoped his own bad mood wouldn’t spoil it.

“Is the schoolwork getting hard?” he asked, watching Kai attentively.

“Nah.” He lifted his bag with his foot by the strap, reaching for his port. The screen was unsalvageable and when he thumbed the power button only half of the screen woke, the other dead black.

Dad frowned. “What happened?”

“My classmates happened.”

His expression darkened. “Lijun again?”

“Yeah.”

Dad sighed. It would be an abuse of his power to march into the Principal’s office and demand that the rowdy troublemakers be suspended, even when Kai knew he wanted to. Kai knew that because he himself wanted to give them a piece of his mind, and he knew that he didn’t get that indignation from his mother.

“I didn’t yell at him, I promise,” Kai insisted.

Dad shook his head. “I know you didn’t. Did you tell your teacher?”

He nodded. 

“Good. They’ll sort it out.”

They both knew that this issue had been ongoing for months without any signs of being sorted out. But there was no point dwelling on what they could do little about.

Dad nudged the plate closer to Kai. “Come on, this will cheer you up. I’ll make us some milk tea.”

Kai smiled halfheartedly and bit into a mooncake. It was delicious and succeeded at lifting his spirits, even just a little. “What are we doing tonight?”

“We’ve got dinner with some British dignitaries. The Annesley family, I believe.”

His spirits fell again. So much for fun this evening. Kai tried to brush it off. “Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. So...how was your day, Dad?”

Dad brought the kettle over to the sink, filling it with water. “Oh, the usual. Boring legislative stuff.” He winked at Kai. “I’ll be happy when you’re old enough to help me out with that.”

Kai rolled his eyes. “You just want to sit around watching net-dramas all day while I run the country.”

“Yep.” Dad grinned. He switched the kettle on to boil and stole a mooncake off Kai’s plate with another wink.

He liked the idea of working with his dad. It would beat Algebra any day. Since turning thirteen, Kai had noticed a lot of his classmates becoming grumpy, moody and irritated with their parents. Perhaps Kai would have also felt that way, but since losing Mum, he knew his time with his father was precious.

It was with this thought that he voiced an idea he’d had stowed away for some time. “Dad? Can we do something this weekend? Maybe go to the snow cabin in the Changbai mountains? The one we used to go to with Mum?”

Dad smiled sadly. “I’d love to. But unfortunately I’ve got an important conference this weekend.”

Kai chided himself for getting hopeful. Dad did his best to spend time with him, but more often than not these days, the answer to his requests was no. 

“Can’t you cancel it?” Kai asked, hoping he would be proved wrong.

“I’m sorry, Hǔ zi, It’s a really important one. But I promise we can do that next weekend.” He began pouring the hot water into the cups. 

Kai deflated with the use of the nickname. Hǔ zi had been Mum’s nickname for him. She said that when he was a baby, he tried to bite her fingers, just like a tiger cub. Dad picked it up after she had died. It reminded Kai of her, softened and calmed him, and Dad tended to use it to mollify him.

It didn’t work this time.

“I’m not thirsty,” Kai announced, sliding off the chair.

Dad startled. “Kai, please understand—”

He turned and headed to the living room. “I do, Dad.”

As he stomped off, the smell of jasmine wafting up to his nose, he heard his father sigh. His heart clenched.

Kai knew he was being unreasonable. The emperor’s duty was the heaviest in the whole world, and he had billions of lives resting in his palm. He couldn’t always make concessions for his son. It was just that—Kai felt more and more was being expected of him. Their fortnightly outings had become monthly affairs, and now once in a blue moon. Dad tried his best to balance both, but more was demanding his attention lately, and the word Lunars was what circulated around the palace the most. Whispers passed from servant to maid, guard to secretary, exchanged in hallways for Kai to overhear.

Kai supposed he had inherited his father’s spitefulness, because right now, he wished Queen Levana would just keel up and die.

———

Yìchén was practically bubbling over with excitement when Kai spotted him at the school entrance on Friday. Their friend Jenny stood beside him, looking supremely bored.

“Hi Jenny,” Kai greeted as he reached them. “Are you feeling better?”

Jenny was as put together as usual with the exception of a reddish glow to her nose. She was dressed in the standard girl’s uniform, and though they followed a strict policy on jewellery and makeup, she rebelled with gothic touches where allowed. Her black hair was tied into pigtails with little skull barrettes. Her lip balm was purple rather than the more common pink and Kai knew her beautiful topaz ring had the hidden internal engraving, Live to die.

“Mostly. Nanay told me if I have the energy to sneak out last night to Myla’s place then I have the energy to come to school.” She gave a side glare at Yìchén. “Though I think I have another headache coming on.”

“Kai!” Yìchén gasped, bouncing on his toes. “You’ve got to hear about the forum I was reading through last night!”

Kai cast Jenny a sympathetic look. It was too early in the morning for one of Yìchén’s seminars. While Jenny was sick for the past week, Kai had been subject to a number of them.

The bell rang for class. 

“Uh, why don’t you tell us about it in study hall?” Kai suggested.

Oh boy, did he. After their separate first classes, the three met up in their usual spot in the library between the netscreens and the bean bag lounge. Kai and Jenny tried in vain to practise their second-era history flashcards as Yìchén regaled them with his findings.

“So I was thinking about what Lijun said yesterday—you know, about Princess Selene? And I got curious cause I don’t know much about her other than the fact she died in a fire, obviously,” he rambled, taking no breaks between words. “But then I found something super interesting. It’s this secret that Queen Levana is hiding, you’ll never guess—”

“That the fire wasn’t an accident? And that Levana killed her?” Jenny guessed in a monotone, resting her chin on her palm and staring at the digital bookshelves.

Yìchén’s mouth hung open. “You’ve heard the rumours too?”

“Oh come on, everyone knows that Levana killed her. That’s as good as fact.”

This caught Kai’s attention. “I didn’t know that. Is there evidence that she killed Selene?”

Jenny scoffed. “Evidence is relative. Think of the situation: you’re an evil princess who happens to become queen regent when your sister dies. All that’s standing in the way of you and the throne is a dumb little three-year-old. Wouldn’t you want to dispose of her while she’s young and helpless?”

“No,” Kai protested, very unfond of being compared to the Lunar royals a second time. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“You wouldn’t because you’re a softy,” she corrected. “We’re talking about a crazy evil lady here. Of course she killed Selene.”

Kai wilted into his seat. Jenny, ever the nihilist, likely made these conclusions long ago. Maybe his father had sheltered him because Kai had honestly never considered it before. Could an aunt really kill her own niece? And a toddler at that?

“Anyway, that’s not the secret I was talking about, though I definitely believe that’s true,” Yìchén interjected. He lowered his voice, glancing around conspiratorially. “As I was researching the princess, I found this forum that goes beyond the murder. They have very strong reason to believe that Princess Selene is—”

“Students.” They all jumped at the scratchy voice. The head librarian stood by the table, glowering down at them. “This is your study period. I would hope that you three would be diligently studying. You can discuss your flights of fancy at recess.”

“Yes, Imai-dàren, sorry,” Kai said respectfully, bowing his head. The others exchanged quick sorrys along with him. Imai-dàren was one other the sterner librarians, cranky and so ancient that even Kai’s dad remembered being scolded by her when he attended the academy.

Yìchén waited until she’d gone to lurk elsewhere then fixed his eyes resolutely on Kai’s. “They think Princess Selene is alive.”

Jenny barked out a laugh. Kai slapped a hand over her mouth, smothering her giggles as Imai-dàren sent a searing glare their way. 

“Jen, you’re going to get us a detention,” he hissed, but she all the same continued chortling, the sound only just muffled by his hand. It was probably against the code of conduct for one student to manhandle another so flippantly, but Kai knew Jenny wouldn’t have an issue with it. The pair of them had been in the same class every year since kindergarten. Her mother was a renowned Filipina soprano, a favourite of the Imperial family, so the two had always grown up in the same circles.

Also, there was that two-week stint last year when they’d dated. Well, if hanging out in the library once before school and meeting up twice on the weekend for ice creams can be considered dating. It had fizzled out before it had even begun to produce a flame. Despite the awkward months that followed, they had managed to salvage their friendship. Now a year later, the short spell had made them even more comfortable with each other.

Plus, he’d gotten his first kiss out of it, and he really wasn’t complaining about that. After all, even stupid Lijun hadn’t had his first kiss yet.

Jenny peeled his hand away. “Okay Yìchén, those games have finally rotted your brain.”

“It’s true!” he protested, splaying his hands before them desperately. “Look: there have been reports that the doctor that treated Princess Selene was executed not long after the fire. Why would she be killed unless she was hiding the fact that the princess is alive!”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, and how did we get this information? Luna is totally shut up. We can’t communicate with people up there.”

Yìchén gestured to Kai. “Kai’s dad does.”

She turned to him. “Has Levana been feeding your dad conspiracy theories regarding her dead niece?”

Kai scratched the back of his neck. “...No? I don’t really know what they talk about.”

Jenny cocked her head at Yìchén.

He bit his lip, twiddling his fingers on top of his portscreen. Then his eyes lit up. “Oh! Because there are Lunars who escaped and came here to Earth! They brought the information!”

This time, Kai guffawed. “There are no Lunars on Earth!”

“Exactly,” affirmed Jenny.

Yìchén hung his head, resting it on his elbows. “Fine. I guess you guys don’t get it. You just think it’s just one of my stupid ideas,” he muttered.

Kai reached across the table and patted his arm. “Hey, it’s not stupid. It would make a cool story. We just don’t think it’s all that…plausible.”

Jenny snorted. Kai kicked her foot under the table.

Disheartened nonetheless, Yìchén switched on his port with a blank expression. “We should be studying anyway.”

They worked dutifully for the rest of the period. But as Jenny quizzed Kai on second-era European wars, he stumbled over a few answers. His thoughts were distant. What did Dad say to Levana in those meetings? He knew Luna hated Earth, but why did Dad suddenly seem so stressed about it? Was something coming?

Jenny tutted as she marked down a 16/20 on Kai’s report. “You’ve been slacking.”

Kai tried to shake the premonitions away. “It’s because you haven’t been here this week to supervise me. Okay: who wrote The Communist Manifesto?”

———

Kai still hadn’t talked to Dad since their tiff. It was mostly circumstantial—that same night they had dinner with those dignitaries which ruled out the possibility of a conversation. Then the next day Kai went over to Won-shik’s house—well, mansion—to play video games. His mum had roped him into staying for dinner and as much as Kai enjoyed the immaculately-crafted dishes from the palace chefs, it was nice to have a normal homemade meal every once in a while.

He came home that night to a brand new portscreen lying on his bed, the lockscreen already set to a backdrop from one of his favourite net-dramas. Dad knew he loved it.

Now it was Saturday and Kai’s guilt was eating him up.

He knew the conference started after lunch so Dad would still be in his office preparing his notes. At 10:34, Kai switched on the kettle and began assembling a tray of tea and pineapple buns that Won-shik’s mum insisted he take home. He had never paid much attention to how Dad made his tea so he had to do a netsearch on his new port. While flicking through different recipes, a comm from Jenny popped up as a banner on his screen.

Jenny: heres a new conspiracy theory for yìchén

The link opened to an article declaring that Escort droids are aliens sent from Planet x7-12 in the Corneia galaxy to transform humans into mermaids through micro-radiation.

Kai left the message as Seen. Yìchén may be a little eccentric, definitely skittish, but he was still their friend. Kai didn’t like making fun of him. Jenny seemed to enjoy tearing apart anything that didn’t conform to her own misanthropy. Kai wondered—if he started to do something a little radical, would she be sending off jeering comments about him to her other friends?

Once the cups were no longer scalding to the touch, he tasted the jasmine tea with a spoon; it wasn’t as good as Dad made it, but then he didn’t make it as good as Mum either, so it was fair game.

He took the tray to Dad’s office at a serv-droid’s pace, careful that the tea didn’t slosh over the rims of the cups. It would have been smarter to pour the tea at his destination. Alas, Kai had never carried a tea tray before.

It was thanks to this cautious approach that he heard Dad’s words drifting down the hallway and could pause before he was heard.

“We’re talking about war, Torin. That threat isn’t going to just go away by exchanging pleasantries before and after meetings.”

Kai gripped the tray tighter. He crept forward, keeping the cups steady and listened to his father’s escalating voice.

“Of course not, Your Majesty,” said Konn Torin, Dad’s grouchy old adviser. He had been adviser to Kai’s grandfather and if he somehow managed to be immortal, then he’d probably stick around to be Kai’s adviser when he inherited the throne in about fifty years.

Kai guessed that he liked him. He didn’t like when Torin told him to stop slouching.

“So why doesn’t Camilla understand that? Or any of them on that stupid panel? Do they not realise the gravity of this?!”

He held his breath. He had never heard Dad this angry.

“Perhaps—” Torin hesitated, “perhaps they have not been made privy to the same information we have.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Torin sounded unsure. “A conversation I had with Governor-General Andrews. He seemed rather flippant about the matter. He ventured so far as to say that Levana was, ahem, ‘bluffing.’”

Dad laughed incredulously. “Bluffing? Are they having the same meetings with Levana as us?”

“Actually, I would say no, Your Majesty.”

Dad was quiet for a while. Kai’s fingers were turning white around the knuckles.

“So Levana is isolating her threats to us,” he said finally.

“That seems to be the case.”

“Because we’re her main target,” he growled. “That’s why she killed off her husband, isn’t it?”

Kai blinked. He had heard that Levana’s husband had died, but it hadn’t been big news. He was a mere guard. It was unsettling to hear Dad call it a murder in such an undisguised way. At the time of its announcement, he had never implied such a thing.

Kai knew being the emperor meant keeping secrets. He hadn’t known that meant keeping secrets from him.

“Come now, Rikan, we don’t know that she seeks a marriage alliance yet. They have nothing presently to offer us,” said Torin persuasively. “They don’t have any bargaining chips for such an arrangement.”

Torin’s confident assurance was marred with a tinge of doubt. Dad was not convinced.

“For now. But they’ll make a reason.”

Dad. Always the optimist. Always able to find a silver lining.

No. Mum had been the optimist. Maybe he had been mimicking her, pretending to have the same steady faith that she had for Kai’s sake. Maybe internally things weren’t as okay as he always made them out to be. 

War. Threats. A marriage alliance?

His hands tremored, sending a loud rattle through the china.

Kai heard the dual intake of breath from inside the office. He finally reached the door, peering inside with trepidation.

Dad’s tight shoulders relaxed at seeing him. “Oh, hey Hǔ zi, How long have you been there?”

“I just came now,” Kai lied. He lifted the tray. “I, uh, wanted to bring you some tea before the conference.”

He smiled warmly. “That’s very kind of you, Kai.” He sat as Kai walked over to the desk, laying the tray down gently. “Would you like some, Torin?”

Torin coughed, hands tucked behind his back. “No, thank you. I’m quite quenched as it is,” he answered, abstemious as always. From the significant distance he maintained between himself and the desk, he had probably surmised that this was Kai’s first attempt at making tea.

Dad sent Torin a long, pointed look. “Take a seat, Torin. Have some tea.”

Torin sat as ordered and Kai poured a cup for each of them. It was unnerving—his father, moments before ready to rip out Levana’s throat, and now the soft, gentle father he’d always known. 

“Dad,” Kai started, a little shakily. “I’m sorry for getting mad at you on Thursday. I know how important your responsibilities are. You don’t have to give them up for me.”

He smiled sadly, “Thank you, Kai. I’m sorry I can’t always spend time with you. I want to—all the time.” His eyes shone and he reached out to graze Kai’s cheek. “You’re a good boy.”

He should feel indignant being referred to like a child, but Kai just felt warm and safe. “Thanks, Dad.”

He retracted his hand to sip his tea and beamed. “Tastes great! What do you think, Torin?”

“Delicious,” Torin said in the way he might have if Kai had left a rodent in the cup.

Kai shuffled from foot to foot. “Dad? What’s happening with the Lunars?”

Dad’s openness turned wary. “Why? Did you hear something?”

“Just…something some classmates said,” he fibbed, trying to sound nonchalant. “Are they going to declare war on us?”

“No. I won’t let that happen. They are…testing our patience at the moment. But don’t worry about it too much.” He reached for Kai’s hands, grasping them firmly. “I’ll protect our people. I’ll protect you.”

At that, Kai rounded the desk and enveloped him in a hug. Dad squeezed back. “I don’t wanna go to Changbai anyway,” Kai murmured into his shoulder. “It’s not cold enough for skiing. Let’s leave it until winter.”

It wasn’t true. Kai did want to go, but as he felt his father sigh in relief, he knew he had made the right decision.

He broke away and headed to the door. “Good luck with the conference.”

“Thank you, buddy. I’ll see you at dinner.”

On the way back to his room, Kai dwelled on these facts: 

1. The threat of war with Luna was very real, 

2. If Dad believed Levana had killed her husband, then she had certainly killed her niece, and,

3. It was the duty of the prince to do something to stop her.

But what?

———

He had a nightmare on Sunday. A woman was hovering over him, blood dripping down her fingers that gripped the handle of a knife. He couldn’t make out her face—he didn’t know her, not really, but she knew him. All that was visible in this dank, foggy mist was her gleaming, sharp teeth and black eyes, shining as he crawled up to him.

“You won’t get away from me,” she sang, though it was more of an echo, paralysing him to the floor.

She lifted her hand and he cried out, covering himself with his arms. But as she took the plunge, her direction shifted.

It landed on a girl next to him. She rolled away just in time, but the woman was undeterred, readying herself for the next strike. The girl was young, younger even than him, and she was crying. “Please,” she begged him, “Please! Stop her!”

The hysteria in her pleas broke through the spell rooting him to the floor. His arm shot out and grabbed her, pulling her away seconds before the blade pierced her heart.

“Thank you,” she gasped out. His mind blinded him to her appearance, her features, the true tone of her voice. Yet Kai knew her name. And he knew implicitly, that now he had helped her, she would do her part and help him.

———

Kai combed his fingers through his hair in the hover on the way to school. He had overslept, spending his precious hours of sleep pacing the floor, trying to shake off his nightmare. When that didn’t work, he had analysed it. Broken it down as though it were a vision sent from a deity.

He eventually wore himself to sleep. When Nainsi rolled in to rouse him at 8:15 (activated when he hit snooze for the fifth time) he only managed to dress, brush his teeth and stuff a croissant into his backpack just before his hover left without him.

Deeming his hair acceptable, he opened his bag and rummaged around for the croissant. The hover slowed to a stop. 

He glanced outside. “What’s wrong?”

“We are experiencing a minor delay due to traffic,” the robotic operator replied.

Kai saw a row of a dozen hovers piled up in front of them. “There’s never any traffic here.”

“This route is usually clear at our normal departure time, however as we are precisely seven minutes and thirty-eight seconds behind typical schedule, traffic conditions have worsened.”

He groaned. Homeroom started in eight minutes. He drummed his fingers on his legs, calculating. “How much longer will it be?”

“Approximately four minutes and twenty-one seconds.”

Gathering his bag and coat, he unbuckled his seatbelt. “Drop us to the ground.”

The hover began to descend. Kai flung open the door before they had even reached the street.

“Your Highness, the journey is not complete,” the feminine voice objected.

“I’ll run!” Kai yelled, jumping to the ground and taking off. He sprinted to the end of the street, tearing a bite from his croissant and nearly knocking over a pedestrian and a chihuahua dressed in a pink jumpsuit. “Sorry!” he called out.

The academy came into view as he turned the corner, some fellow late stragglers rushing out of hovers. He checked his port watch. Six minutes to homeroom. 

As he dashed up the courtyard and into the locker bay, he received a good helping of bewildered stares. Reaching his locker, Kai folded over his knees, gasping in air as his heart pounded in his temples.

A chuckle cut through his wheezing. “Hey, whatcha running from, Prince? Finally realised what was coming for you?”

Kai closed his eyes, holding out a hand. “Later Lijun, I don’t have time for this.” 

Lijun looked positively furious when Kai opened his eyes, but he just turned, pressed his thumbprint to his locker keypad and stuffed his bag inside.

“Oh, so you think you can just talk like that to me, huh?” Lijun snarled, ripping the pastry from his hand. “You think you can just—”

“Yeah, yeah, harass me later, I gotta go.” Kai seized his wrist, took another bite of his croissant, and sprinted away. Lijun would make him regret that later. But he had greater priorities right now.

The digital clock above the school’s trophy cabinet read 8:47. Three minutes left.

It took a good deal of force to weave past the loitering students blocking the hallway. Eventually, Kai found his target by the library door. Yìchén was engrossed in his portscreen, loudly making sound effects as he swung it around like a steering wheel. “Yes! Triple hit!”

“Yìchén!” 

Yìchén lept in his skin, dropping his port and only just managing to catch it midair. “Kai! I hadn’t saved that level,” he moaned.

Kai raced over. “Is Jenny here?”

“She said she’s hanging out with Myla today. Something about being sick of our testosterone-fueled—”

“Good. I need to talk to you. Without her.”

Confusion was scrawled across his face. “We have homeroom in only a minute.”

One minute. No time for formalities then. Kai grabbed his shoulders, ignoring the Game Over chime from the port and the mystified look in Yìchén’s eyes.

“Tell me what you know about Princess Selene being alive.”

Notes

Did you know that every member of the Rampion Crew has a short story about their childhood EXCEPT for Kai? This is an egregious oversight and I had to remedy this immediately.

Btw this is set when kai is 13 because right now cinder is 11 and waking up for the first time so it’s like princess selene is waking to the world and to kai!!

虎子 (Hǔ zi) means tiger cub in Mandarin

@cindersassasin @hayleblackburn @spherical-empirical @salt-warrior @just2bubbly @gingerale2017 @kaider-is-my-otp @slmkaider @luna-maximoff-22 @kaixiety @snozkat @mirrorballsss @skinwitch18 @bakergirl13 @wassupnye @linh-cindy @therealkaidertrash21 @winterrhayle

[ts1m1kas]

Original Ask: second here's an erling fic idea. so as you know norway lost to spain in the euro's match, which means erling will obviously be dejected and quite depressed that his country couldn't make it, so what if his girlfriend takes advantage of the days before the premier league starts, and plans a sweet getaway for the two of them. (@findingnemosworld)

Word Count: 667 words

(author's note: i love writing about erling !!! thank you for another lovely request @findingnemosworld 🫶 im sure my haaland anon will like this as well !!)

International breaks were always difficult. However, the added pain of coming home, knowing your team hadn’t qualified, made it worse. 

Erling sat dejectedly in the changing rooms. The 1-0 loss to Spain meant Norway hadn’t qualified. He felt like he had let his country down. Checking his phone, he saw a text from his girlfriend that read:

‘So proud of you my love! You played amazingly, can’t wait to see you when you get back home <3’

He sighed. Erling knew she was just saying that to make him feel better. Although knowing she thought he played well made him feel immensely better. He said his goodbyes to his teammates and headed back to his hotel to pack his bags.

After the usual airport experience, Erling arrived back in Manchester. He got out of the taxi that had brought him home and knocked on the door of the house he shared with his girlfriend. The cold air of the UK nipped at his skin as he waited for her to open the front door.

Wrapped up in one of his hoodies, Y/N opened the door and threw her arms around her boyfriend. She knew he would be disappointed by the loss and she wanted to make him feel better.

Erling pulled his bags inside and closed the door behind him. His girlfriend looked up at him, her eyes full of sympathy.

“Go take a warm shower and then we can watch some television”, she told him, "It’ll make you feel better, I know you hate flying.”

He nodded wordlessly and moved slowly up the stairs. Erling undressed himself and stepped into the stream of warm water.

His mind was running through all the things he could’ve done differently. He felt fully responsible for their loss in his heart, even though his head was telling him he wasn’t. He finished up in the shower, got dressed, and walked downstairs to where Y/N was sitting down waiting for him. 

The girl opened her arms and gestured for him to come and sit with her. Erling crawled into her outstretched arms and rested his head on her chest. Y/N ran her fingers through his damp, freshly-washed hair.

“It wasn’t your fault, my love. Please don’t blame yourself. You’ll only make yourself feel worse.”

Erling sighed, his eyes stung with unshed tears, “I know, nydelig, I just can’t help but feel I could’ve played better."

Y/N sighed. Her heart hurt for the man she loved so dearly. Erling put his heart and soul into football, and she wished he would recognise when he had done his best.

The next few days were miserable. Erling moped around the house, barely speaking a word to his girlfriend. Y/N had decided to take matters into her own hands. She had booked a getaway to a cabin in a beautiful forest and was about to tell her boyfriend.

“Erling, honey?” She said, knocking on the door to his office. She let herself in, and her boyfriend took his headphones off.

“I have a surprise for you,” She told him, handing an envelope over to him.

“What is it?”

“Open it,” she replied, gesturing towards the envelope that was now in his large hands.

Erling gently ripped open the envelope that he’d been given. He pulled out the piece of paper that was inside and scanned over the text that was written.

“We’re going away?”

“Yes, I think it will be good for you to get away from football for a while and just get back to your normal self. It breaks my heart to see you upset my love.”

Erling got out of his chair and wrapped his arms around his girlfriend. He nestled his head into the crook of her neck and placed a gentle kiss on her shoulder.

“Thank you kjære, thank you for everything.”

The pair remained in each others arms for a while, grateful to have one another to pick them back up when things weren’t perfect.

[anniebear-92]

Makeup And Coffee

As I promised I would release a little short for being non existent for a bit :)

Summary: Katsuki is your best friend and neighbor that has lived next door since you were small. You both have a crush and are too dumb to make a move. <3 He comes over to bother you and ends up having soft boy time with you.

Katsuki opened his eyes as his consciousness awoke from slumber, his arm draped over his eyes to shield from the glare of morning light. He let his arm slide to the bed, blinking rapidly before catching the red numbers of his clock indicating it was early in the morning, just a few minutes before 8 Am.

With a deep groan he lifted himself from his bed and shuffling into the bathroom. As he brushed his teeth with one hand and rubbed the remaining sleep from his eye, the events from the previous evening brought him back to full awareness. His parents had indicated they were going to be out early this morning and running errands for their clothing brand all day. He was set to be all alone and was determined that was not happening.

After finishing his business in the restroom, he threw on some clothes for the day and his favorite sweater over that faded skull tee shirt he has had for some time. Closing the front door behind him he took a turn around the corner of the wall that stretched crossed his yard into yours, making the journey next door to your front door.

Instead of knocking he turned the knob and let himself in, knowing full well he was welcome anytime just as you were in the Bakugo household. Inside he could hear the chatter coming from the kitchen pause as the front door opened. Your mother poked her head out and flashed a bright smile that he recognized as a mirror of your own. Clearly you got your mother's looks as a majority.

"Ah Katsuki! Come in and join us for coffee!" She waved him in and he strolled with hands in his deep pockets into the kitchen where your father sat at the island, cup in hand himself. He lifted the cup in salute while his eyes scanned over the paper laid out before him.

"Good morning young man."

Katsuki nodded in response as a cup was placed before him, "Here sweetheart, have you come to hang out with our daughter today? Surely you didn't come to drink coffee with old people like us!"

Your father snorted with a small "Speak for yourself." earning a softswat from his wife's dainty hand. "Parents are out today, figured I didn't want to be alone." Katsuki took a sip of the dark drink, the warmth sliding down his throat and waking him even more.

She nodded in understanding, his mother and yours had been best friends for a very long time at this point. Meeting and bonding over their mutual children's bad behavior when they were called into the office of your primary school. Both Katsuki and you sat on the small plastic chairs, in your blue uniform with a star embordered over your chest. Dirt and cuts all over from your brawl after a disagreement over who would be All Might in your Heroes Vs. Villains game.

"Mitsuki did tell me she had a few errands to finish up today, you're welcome to hang out here." He grunted in thanks, head swiveling around as if he had realized you were no where to be found as of yet.

"Where is she anyway?" He sipped at his drink as your father lifted a finger towards the second floor above him.

"Still in bed after playing video games all damn night with her friends. If you plan on waking her 0 out of 10 would not recommend."

Katsuki snorted, almost inhaling his drink and earning a look of concern from your mother. He held up a hand to indicate his was just fine and she backed off onto her stool once again. He had to admit your father's humor was top notch for an extra.

"Oh if you're going to wake her you'll want this." Your mother slid a cup across the table, steam wafting from the liquid inside mixed just the way you like it.

"Think of it as a peace offering, so she doesn't rip your head off."

She finished placing the cup in his hand with a wink and began reading the newspaper over her husband's shoulder. Taking both cups he made his way up the stairs with a small smile on his face. If anything he hopes that one day your relationship was anything like your parents', even his own would be fine... He just needed to get the courage to ask you out!

Up the stairs he found himself outside your door just like many times before, instead of knocking he slid the door open slowly to confirm if you were still sleeping or awake. His crimson gaze landed on the bed, you were wrapped up like a little caterpillar all cocooned in the blanket. The only thing visible were your closed eyes, forehead and hair that stuck each way from the pillows. Snug as a bug in a rug.

Stalking over on his tip toes, socks slipping over the carpet quiet as a mouse in order not to wake you early. Setting down the cups he smiled softly at your serene face, wishing he could've been the stuffed bear clutched in your arms instead.

Sitting on the side of your bed he must've been having a soft moment by leaning over and poking your shoulder softly. However still being Bakugo he whispered, "Oi, dumbass. Wake up."

When you didn't move in the least he huffed, trying once again he placed his hand on your shoulder and gave a little shove. "Oi! Dumbass!"

With a groan you flipped over, hand shooting out in a stretch while catching Katsuki upside the cheek. He flinched back in shock, his own hand rubbing the affected area. Losing the softness from before he now stood to brace himself for the next steps. He jumped onto the bed, full weight crashing down on you as the next sounds became colorful curse words.

"WHO THE FU-" You started, arms flailing at your attacker. You hands connected a few times as Katsuki struggled to block and catch them, repeating over and over "Oi! It's me! CHILL OUT!"

The struggle continued for a few moment before he finally whisper yelled "Stop! Your parents are going to think I'm doing freaky shit to you!"

He placed a hand over your mouth, your e/c eyes now glaring holes into his face as he gave a triumphant smirk of accomplishment when you went still.

"Morning dipshit."

"Gerr Ouph!" You attempted through the warm palm of his hand. He smirked even larger as he let his full weight drop on you once again, a oof leaving you along with the air.

"Dammit Katsuki! Get your fat ass off me!" You growled against his palm as he shrugged, "Nah, your bed is comfortable even if a bit lumpy."

Your response was a quick swipe of your tongue against his skin, the hand shooting back like you burned him.

"EW BITCH!" He snarled as you took the opportunity to use your weight against him, earning him flailing backwards onto the floor with a thump. Leaning over the bed triumphantly you smiled wide.

"Good, where you belong. Night night." Wrapping yourself back into the burrito of blankets, a knock at the door startling you both.

"Everything okay in here kiddos?" The voice of your father made it though the crack of the door, opening it slightly to see Katsuki flattened on the floor and your barely open eyes.

"We have a bed bug problem apparently and I delt with it." You waived your hand at the floor at the boy laying still on his back, a hand over his eyes in annoyance.

"Well do I need to call pest control?" Your father's eyebrow raised in amusement as you shook your head. "Nope Call me able, because I was able to take care of the pest."

Your father chuckled at your silly response while closing the door behind him, Katsuki took the opportunity to hop onto his feet, glaring down at you with a vengeance.

"The hell was that for?"

You showed your favorite finger to him, "It's way too damn early for your shenanigans."

He leapt towards you again, earning yet another wrestling match.

You finally squirmed from under him and managed to get a foot into his side, kicking him to the floor once more.

"It's too early for your shit Katsuki!" You crossed your arms glaring down at him, he mirrored easily as he shrugged. "It's 8:30 you lazy shit."

"It's 8:30 am on a Saturday you absolute twat!"

Picking himself off the floor for the second time that morning he grabbed the cup meant for you, eyes lighting up from the sight of the hot drink you made grabby hands for the cup.

"Your mom made you coffee." He slipped the beverage into your hands as you squealed and took a sip, your mother really got you.

"Delicious." Speaking in your best Elmo voice, you grabbed your phone as Katsuki invaded your bed, flopping beside you on his own.

His eyes began flipping between you and his screen, watching as you sat up and scratched at your hair with a large yawn. It was only now he realized your attire, a tank top and itty bitty shorts. Not a bra to be seen, his face heating up as he returned his attention to his phone to avoid being considered a perv.

"Who were you playing games with last night?" He finally started as your yawn completed.

"Kami, Sero and Kiri. Everytime I said I was going to bed I got 'One more game! Yeah come on it's not that late!' " You mocked with an attempt at a deep voice earning a snort from him as your phone pinged with a notification.

Picking the device back up and reading the message a small smile crossed your lips. Who the fuck has you smiling like that?

Katsuki took a sip of his coffee to avoid jealousy when another ping signaled a response to your own. He let a few more notifications go on while you continued a conversation when he finally couldn't take it any longer.

"Who the fuck is bothering you this early?"

Your eyes turned to his, narrowing as you curled a lip in a snarl. "you are you dumb bitch!"

He bared his own teeth at you while leaning forward, "I'm not a dumb bitch you are!" Before he could even finish another ping came from your device, his large hand snatching it from your fingers.

You squealed a protest as he began searching to find out who had taken your attention from him.

He growled as non other than his green haired rival smiled from his profile picture a top the thread. "That nerd has been messaging you?"

He texted something while avoiding your snatching hands in attempts to reclaim the device.

Once finished he tossed the device into your waiting hands, "What the hell did you say to him?"

He let a small smirk cross his lips without vocalizing what he wrote.

"Oi, Fuck off she's busy?" You read aloud in an incredious tone.

Sorry, didn't mean to bother? The response came in almost immediately you shot a quick apology for Katsuki's attitude and indicated you'd catch up with your friend later.

"Well anyway since I'm clearly not getting sleep, it's time to de-troll for the day."

Katsuki nodded along as if what you said was the absolute truth. "You do be looking like a gremlin this morning. Though that's nothing unusual."

A pillow smacked him right in the face and his phone from his hand. He growled as he caught your annoyed glare. "Just proved my point dumbass." He leaned over and poked your arm, "Besides are you going to apologize for licking my hand earlier you nasty bitch?"

Cocking a brow you sized up his stupidly handsome face. "Apologize to you?" He nodded as you snorted, "Apologize is a big word for Elmo."

Smoothing down your hair, you stood from the bed finally to do business in the restroom for the day. Stopping at your closet you began pulling out garments, starting with a bra. Katsuki's eyes quickly averted upon seeing the item and heat rushed to his face once more. His eyes returned to your rear barely contained by the shorts as you turned around when a small "Damn." slipped from his lips invoulntairly.

He turned his head as quick as possible back to his phone, he wasn't looking at your ass. Him? No...

"Get a good look did you?" You popped out a hip with a grin and he huffed. "Meme on my phone."

"Sure it was." Rolling your eyes, you made your way to the restroom to change into your clothes for the day. After a shower, brushing your teeth and dressing, you re-entered your bedroom to find Katsuki still scrolling away on his phone.

His eyes raised to you and landed on the large bag clutched in your hand. "The fuck is all that?"

You set the bag down on the bed beside him, grabbing a travel mirror and plopping down yourself. "My essentials for the day."

His eyes rolled so hard you thought they would pop out of his head.

You began fixing your hair out of your way in order to begin making up your face as he watched. "Still look like a gremlin."

You gave an amused snort, "Look like a gremlin and yet you're the one looking at my ass."

He balked, dropping his phone. "The fuck I was! It was a meme on my phone!"

You chuckled a bit before leaning over slightly to become eye level with the red faced boy. "Didn't know your phone was attached to my shorts."

He pushed your head back with a growl and manical laughter on your part. "Whatever... you got a nice ass okay?" He huffed the quiet comment and you pretended not to hear.

Opening your bag finally you set up the mirror ahead of you and began your moisturizing routine, once all finished you moved on to foundation and bounced it into your skin with the beauty sponge.

Katsuki had reverted to his phone, eyes shifting to you every so often before he finally asked. "The fuck are you doing?"

You lowered the sponge and looked at him with half face covered. "Make up? Beauty takes work and time."

He clicked his teeth while looking you over, heat filling your face as he scrutinized your work so far.

"Don't need that shit. you're pretty without it." He mumbled, barely audible but you caught it. Heat flushed your face as you whispered a Thank you.

"I like make up, it makes me feel good wither I look good without it or not."

He grunted in response and you went back to bouncing the blender to blend the foundation in.

You were now blending concealer with the previous layer when you noticed Katsuki blatantly staring. "You are beating the shit out of your face, how does that make you feel good?"

A loud cackle left you as he began digging into your bag, his curious nature shining through. You had already set out what you planned to use, extras still in the bag as he began picking out objects and inspecting them. He paused to check your progress, seeing the light lines and dots you had placed along your face he smirked.

"You look like you're going to war with all that paint."

You paused to glare, raising the sponge towards him. "Watch it, or you're next!"

His glee dropped into defiance. "You wouldn't dare."

You gave a smug expression before reaching the sponge out threateningly towards his face. "Want to test that theory?"

He shook his head before returning to rummaging in the bag.

You continued your makeup routine as he began pulling things out of the bag and asking what they were. You found yourself giving answers as he demanded them.

"Eyeliner. Mascara. Another Mascara. Yes I have two of them! Actually three."

He finally put the bag down as you began flipping open pallets looking for colors you wanted to put on eyes for the day. He began picking up the pallets as you dropped them, his nose crinkling in disgust.

After finally finding the one that satisfied you, the rest were discarded towards him in a pile. Lifting a brush you began to blend in the first color while he watched shamelessly now. Moving to add another color Katsuki commented mindlessly, "Bet I could do that shit better than you."

The brush paused at your lid as you turned towards him. "Bet not."

His eyelids lowered in threatening manners. "You looking down on me?"

Shaking your head you resumed your brush strokes. "No, have you done make up before?" He shook his head and mumbled "Just that shitty black eye crayon for the mask..."

You knew it! He finally admitted to using eyeliner!

"My sweet Kit Kat, I've been doing make up for a few years now. Which is longer than you mind you. I know you can't." You gave him the sweetest smile knowing exactly what you were provoking.

"Give me that shit. Move." He snapped his fingers at the brush, grabbing back my bag and pallets as he began digging out things that interested him. Letting out a sigh you grabbed a bag of make up wipes and wiped away your hard work. Just the eyes though, the rest was too perfect.

Katsuki went through your brush set and confirmed what they were for with you and once he was satisfied he began dipping softly into the color with the bristles.

He first attempted one handed, however annoyed by the subtle movements of your head he finally raised his free hand to grip your chin gently between his long fingers. The music you had turned on upon leaving the bathroom turned into a soft song, his rough fingers adjusting you with gentle presses and squeezes as he added color after color. You peeked one eye open to watch the determination on his face as he concentrated to prove your ass wrong.

"Close." He snapped gently and you listened. He finished up his last strokes and then tapped your knee to get your attention. "Where's your liner shit?"

You grabbed the liner you preferred and handed it to him as he inspected his work. He removed the cap with his teeth and held it gently between his lips. Your face heated at his serious eyes, while he waited for you to close your own once again.

You listened to his soft breathing, feeling absolutely serene with your best friend, okay long time crush pampering your face.

He was half way through lining your first eye when your door cracked unknowingly to both of you. A soft smile upon both of your lips as he worked, a flash and click of a phone camera startled you both. Your eyes flew open and Katsuki luckily pulled the liner away before it could smudge. Both of your jaw dropped expressions were candy to your mother's eyes.

"And that one goes to Mitsuki."

Katsuki groaned, "No! I'll never hear the end of that one!"

She chuckled, it was already sent and long gone. "Sorry dear, I came to let you know dad and I are going to grab some groceries for dinner." She leaned against the frame while watching us closely. "Will you be joining us for dinner Katsuki?"

He gave a shrug and she smiled. "I'll just plan for you. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

You groaned loudly as she left with a loud cackle, heading downstairs to her waiting husband.

Katsuki sighed heavily and grabbed your chin one final time. He finished the liner and mascara before he handed you the mirror once more. "Well?"

you turned your face back and forth, inspecting his work. "Not too horrible I guess."

His smug expression dropped into annoyance as you chuckled. "I'm kidding! It actually looks nice."

He rolled his eyes as you crossed your arms. "Question is though... can you match it?" You pointed towards your clean eye and he huffed. "Of course I can."

After finishing his work he watched as you added in your normal highlighter, blush and set it all with your favorite mist. He coughed deliberately as you rolled your eyes. "It's just a mist to set the makeup chill."

You grabbed his chin just as he did and he scrunched his eyes closed as you lightly misted his face. "See? Big baby."

He pouted when you released him and you snorted. "You're adorable when you pout."

His face darkened as he turned his face away, flopping onto the bed.

"Shut up."

"Anyway you're taking me to breakfast."

He shot upright with a scowl, "Who the fuck said so?" You smiled brightly and he felt his heart flutter at your beautiful face, knowing he had done your look today.

"I did. It's payback for my rude awakening!"

He huffed sitting up. "Fine hurry the fuck up."

Brightening up at the promise of food you grabbed your must haves before opening the door. "Way to my heart? Food."

You exited the room to leave a flustered Katsuki in the room. He took a deep breath and followed you. Maybe he would confess at lunch.

[eadanga]

The Special Christmas Present

Chris scooped up the last bit of snow to the side then he sighed “All finished now when everyone comes they don’t trudge through the snow”

“Chris?” He turned around and saw his wife Sarah standing at the door

He quickly made his way over to her gently pushing her back inside “Baby it’s like below 0 outside you shouldn’t be standing there without a coat”

Sarah rolls her eyes “I was barely out there and I wanted to see if you were good”

“Come on babe you married a personal heater” He pats his chest “This weather is nothing”

Sarah giggles “Well ok Superman now I was gonna get the chairs and”

Chris places both hands on her shoulders pushes her to the couch “Nope you sit your cute pregnant ass down I’ll get it”

Sarah laughs as she rubs her stomach “Chris I’m fine I’m barely showing”

“I can still see the bump so you focus on the food I’ve got this”

Sarah smiles “Ok Chris”

Chris heads out the door and gets the chairs from the garage “Here we go we just gotta wipe these off”

“I can do that Chris I know what I can handle”

Chris sighs then smiles “Ok but only wipe these off nothing else”

Sarah giggles “You got it” She begins cleaning then grins “Our first holiday before the new baby”

“Yes I can’t wait till he comes”

Sarah raises an eyebrow “He?”

“Yup there’s a little football star in there”

Sarah giggles “Ok if you say so”

Chris wraps his arms around her “Honestly whether it’s a boy or a girl I don’t care long as I’m having it with you”

“Aww Chris I love you”

“I love you too” He kisses her deeply then he pulls back “Time for you Christmas present”

“But Chris people aren’t here yet”

“I know but I thought you and me can open one together and I really want this time alone with you”

Sarah smiles “Ok long as you open mine”

Chris grins as he grabs a present from under the tree then Sarah grabs hers from the closet

Chris smiles “Ladies first”

Sarah giggles “Ok here it was too big to fit under the tree”

Chris chuckles as he rips off the wrapping he grins at the sight of the glass framed star plaque “Sarah…”

“As you can see your football students signed it and some fans and you team members”

“Wow this is…I don’t even know what to say”

“You’re so loved and appreciated Chris and you took a step back just for me and the baby that’s amazing”

Chris sets it down then hugs her tightly “Oh you’re amazing Sarah I don’t deserve you”

“Oh Chris you’re so sweet I love you”

“I love you too this is amazing” Chris wipes the tears from his eyes

“Oh Chris don’t cry you’re so cute”

“Sorry was just emotional and overwhelmed by this” He hands her the present “For milady”

Sarah giggles as she takes it and unwraps it she grins when she sees the leather bag “Chris this is so nice”

“I saved up a lot it’s a mommy bag wanted to welcome my love to motherhood”

“Oh Chris this is sweet”

“But the best part is inside”

“There’s more?” Sarah digs into the bag and smiles “Chris this is beautiful” She pulls out the Cuban chain necklace

“I saved up a lot for you babe this is pure gold”

“Chris you’re gonna make me cry”

He pulls out a small bracelet from behind is his back “Matching bracelet”

“Oh Chris you’re so amazing” She kisses him deeply “I love you so much”

“I love you too” He bends down and kisses her baby bump “And I love you I can’t wait to meet you” He looks at her “Merry Christmas baby”

Tags: @choicesgodfanatic @indiacater @jared2612 @darley1101 @the-soot-sprite

[space-woomy]

How my agents stack up agaisnt each other in a fight

I think that with my agents, in terms of fighting each other, they all have specific circumstances that determine whether they win or not. Like, none of them are “The most powerful agent” or anything like that, anyone if them could beat the other with the right circumstances.

So I'm gonna talk about that

(Also this is Cap'n 3 (Molly), Side order 8, and Side order 4 (Alex). Basically the current and most recent version of them. This also isn't what I think in terms of the actual cannon, it's just my agent ocs)

In terms of raw physical power, it goes: 

0. Callie

Eight

Three

Four

8 is the strongest physically, and 4 is the weakest. 4 can't beat 3 or 8 in an arm wrestling contest.

I don't remember where I was going with this. But here's  how I think the match ups go. This is a single splat type of fight, like how you knock out agent 3 in the O.E fight or something.

3 v.s 8

They  fight for a few minutes and then make out-

If it's a one on one, on flat ground, weapons or not, Eight wins a good chunk of the time. They're pretty evenly matched, but 8 wins most of the time. But if their fighting in the domes, the city, even an apartment or a house of some kind, really any sort of urban area, Three wins 99% of the time.

8 has formal military training. She knows how to fight someone one on one, how to take them down easily and how to dodge and read attacks…of someone else with formal military training. 3 on the other hand, has pretty basic fighting skills. I went over this in a different post but that one’s gone now so I'll say it again: 3 does the best with adapting to a fight with the environment. They know basic military moves and tricks from cuttlefish, more intricate self defense and fighting techniques from Marie, and their most valuable skill of adapting from Callie. Callie taught them to use their environment to their advantage, and 3 took that and ran with it. On different missions in splat 1 they'd pull some goofy shit. 3 would be getting chased, run around a corner, find a steel chair, grab it and wait until someone came around the corner and smack them with that shit. Or they'd just punch them if they're was no chair. They'd face off against someone, and instead of actual shooting their gun, they'd throw it at them, hit the enemy, punch them, and then shoot. They would rip a plank or lead pipe off a wall and use that to fight you.

Eight, and most other soldiers inkling or octoling, don't have the the knowledge or skill to be able to deal with 3's loony tunes bullshit. 

Even giving them both of their signature weapons, it doesn't change anything. 3 just gets another thing to Throw at 8.

So 3 v 8: if it's 1 on 1 on a flat arena with minimal cover, 8 wins most of the time.

If it's any area with any objects that can be picked up, 3 wins 99.99% of the time 

3 vs 4

4 is the most agile of the 3 agents, but the weakest in physical strength. She has more standard training than 3, but less than 8. Because of this, she learned to make fights quick and decisive. Deal with things quickly. Three wins most of the time, nearly 100% of the time if it’s with no weapons. But if weapons are allowed, Four Definitely has a better chance (not too much tho…). But, if they have weapons, and are in an environment with lots of different elevating terrain, and a lot of cover, then Four has a much higher chance of winning. She’d use the cover and different elevations to try and get better angles and doge roll into quick splats. It’s not a perfectly even match, Three is also use to more urban areas to fight in, but Four does definitely takes a good amount matches.

8 v.s 4

Again, if it's one on one, no weapons, Eight wins. It's even less closer than 3 v.s 8. Four doesn't do well with physical, one on one combat compared to Eight and Three. She's good in her own right, but not as good as the other 2. Even with weapons on a neutral arena, Eight takes it 90% of the time.

The only time where 4 wins a majority of the time is in an environment with lots of varying terrain, a more urban setting. Eight is used to mainly head on combat, and couldn't keep up with 4 dropping in and out and getting quick splats.

Conclusion

Overall, with my agents, what determines whether they win or not is if they're in their preferred fighting environment. 3 is the best in urban areas with lots of objects and varying terrain, 4 is best with varying terrain with lots of cover, and 8 is best with neutral terrain with the least amount of cover possible

In terms of overall being the “Strongest”, 3 is the “strongest agent” with the highest win ratio between everyone, 8 is the second “strongest”, and Four is the “weakest” between them all.

Don't get me wrong though, any of them could beat the other in a fight, with or without their favored circumstances.

If u have any questions then do the ask thing

Hit the autism button

[moseslikellamas]

Cinders in the Dark pt.7

Pairing - Benjicot Blackwood x Whent!OC

Summary - A pair enters the Burnished Sept.

Warnings - Magic, delusions, trickery, frightening imagery, forced marriage, mentions of death, blood, mention of suicidal ideation,depiction of burns, depictions of panic attack, anxious thoughts, grief, not canon, Kieran Burton fancast.

Word count - 2.2k

This story is still alive!!! I swear I'm working on it! Reminder it does and will continue to contain mature themes and material, proceed with that in mind.

The bells had not stopped ringing since they started their morbid tune two days ago. It was a discordant and haunting melody that rang tirelessly. Lucinda felt every toll of the bell in her bones, rattling them in her skin. She had not slept since she woke from the watery halls, her mind was sluggish and in the edges of her vision darkness warped and danced just out of view. She did not want to see the flayed burning man when she closed her eyes.

The sound of soft pattering rain echoed in through the open window while she stared out into the cloudless night. A dress had been delivered to her only an hour ago with a soft knock on her door. It was a simply constructed gown consisting of a red underskirt and a white over gown trimmed in the same color. The sleeves hung long at the sides. It made her nauseous to look at. The white of a wedding gown interlaced with the house colors of Blackwood. It was the first link in a chain to keep her in this cursed castle. She had briefly contemplated throwing it in her fireplace but a horrible image of the burned man flashed through her mind at the thought.

Now she was staring out into the rain filled night. It would feel so good to have that rain upon her skin as she rode Starlight in the towering trees, far far away from this wretched place. Here where the mind never settles and things watch from the shadows. The worst kind of place to raise children in her own opinion. But she didn’t have a good plan at the present moment to escape her fate. It was clear she did not want to die but there was no way feasibly for her to oppose the Lord. She still hadn’t heard or seen anything from her father. The Blackwood Lord was personally posted guard outside of her door so she had no opportunity to go find him either. Even if she did manage to find him, what could he do? The Blackwood forces had already effectively taken over the castle. She could still see Orwyll’s blood coating the walls in the great hall.

A knock sounded on her door but she did not bother to call him in. He would come regardless of her words anyway. And after a moment the door swung open just as she knew it would. She didn’t turn around to greet him either, just laid her head down on the window sill and watched the rain. She could hear the scuff of his boots against the floor as he approached where she sat. The heat of his body radiated behind her.

“You’re not dressed.”

All he ever said to her were obvious statements of fact, what brilliant observation skills. He was half brainless, she was convinced. He seemed to possess no skills other than mindless slaughter, which he delighted in and a penchant for stating the obvious. She did not deign him with an answer. His hands rested on the back of her chair, gripping the wood tightly.

One moment she was sitting there wistfully staring out into the rain soaked yard and the next moment he’d ripped the chair straight out from underneath her. Quick as lightning he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her upright. She stared back at him wide eyed and shocked. People did not move that quickly, even the fastest warrior could not have plucked her up before she hit the ground.

Beautiful hazel eyes stared at her in her stupor, the light of the torch bringing them to life. They looked like the sun through the trees, golden and green awash together.

“You need to get dressed. Do you understand?”

She stared back at him wondering the same thing herself. Did she understand? It didn’t feel like she understood anything. But she only nodded, putting the dress on was simple enough. Even if it did mean the end of hope. The dream of opportunity was setting like the last rays of the summer sun. It was just as well, she would never truly feel warm again.

***

The bells were louder as the two of them descended the stairs down to the labyrinth beneath the castle. The winding halls made the bells sound even more discordant, the sharp turns and empty rooms making the tone harsh and unpleasant. Strangest of all though were the amount of candles down here as well. Every torch in the castle was actively lit and she found herself admiring parts of it she had never seen before. It was odd to see it all and somehow it felt wrong. This castle was never meant to be settled, it's a ruin. It was bad enough they inhabited it living like the bats, a mere traveler taking a small piece for the night. Lord Blackwood breathed life back into the cursed black walls. She had never managed to keep a torch lit in this part of the castle and yet here they all were. Gleaming and flickering in the stone halls like the walls had never been broken or damp.

As they walked together she dreaded their destination. The sept had been terrible to behold when the burning man delivered her sword and crown. Now she was returning with both to be married under the horrible polished stones. Lord Blackwood had insisted upon her wearing the sword, going as far as to strap it to her side for her. Then he placed her thorny crown on her head softly before taking her hand and leading her down here. She was anxious and a bit terrified of what the wedding ceremony might be like. But mostly she found herself curious. It was clear the Blackwood lord was messing with some old ancient magic. However, it was decidedly different from the magic the witch in the tall tower was using. That piqued her curiosity in an unshakable manner. She was very interested, in a detached manner, on studying whatever the man did down here.

She studied him now as they walked closer to the symphony of bells. He walked with a slow determination as if demonstrating that they had all the time in the world to arrive. It grated on her nerves for reasons she couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was the fact that he felt so self assured, like she was of no consequence to his plans. More so it was, she thought, simply because he was a man. She was so bitterly jealous of that fact and more angry that when given ultimate freedom, this is what he would choose to do with it. She wouldn’t squander her time with a vengeful wife and cursed children. But then she wasn’t doing weirwood magic and sacrifices in the night was she?

As they drew closer to the Sept, nearly upon the threshold, a unholy chorus of voices rose up to accompany the bells. The bells were so loud now it felt like her head was in danger of exploding. Her teeth rattled in her mouth and her eyes watered in pain. The voices wove together in an odd mixture of tones and ranges against the bells. As they passed over the threshold into the room all of the bells but one stopped ringing. It sounded further off from them and had a distant vibration that she felt deep inside her stomach. She wondered if somewhere deeper underground a ghostly set of drums was thrumming as the very ground moved with the beat of music. The choir of voices rang higher and higher into a heavenly melody.

Inside a thousand and twenty candles burned around them. Sat upon the floor and stacked on shelves above they twinkled showing off the bizarre rock of the walls. She hadn’t noticed it before but the roof was domed. It was rather puzzling for her as she had mapped this castle so many times and it never seemed to line up just right. Nowhere above them was an indication of this domed ceiling and yet here it was. The lord led her into a smaller back corner of the room. A set of stained glass windows looked down on them, depicting the phases of the moon and choppy river waters. It was beautiful, it was out of place. A window to nowhere as it did not look outside, no light could possibly shine through the glass and illuminate them.

Despite the chorus of voices singing from the shadows she failed to spot another soul in the cursed Sept with them. The lord who had been so silent their entire trip was now looking at her expectantly. She had no intention of playing into whatever sick game he intended to make this sham of a marriage into, so she resolved to wait him out this time. Up in the rafter she could hear the bats twittering around. It was only then she realized the singing had stopped as well as the bell tolling. There was blessed silence at last. Her relief was short-lived.

“Aeterna flamma morientis cordis mei.”

The torchlight flickered with his words. She watched in horrified amazement as the color shifted from the warm brilliant orange into a deep reflective ruby. It felt wrong that he should influence the flames, a waterlogged riverlord manipulating fire. It made her burn with questions about what other types of magic he was dabbling in. How far did he intend to go with this madness?

“et sanguis tuus miscebitur mihi.”

He pulled his sword out before she’d even registered that he had moved. He cut her clean and fast, she hardly felt the blade. A hiss escaped her at the following burn as blood trickled down her cheek. It was a delicate cut and only a few drops fell.

“Pull out your sword.”

It was nothing less than a command, the man in front of her finally stood as she expected of a Blackwood lord. His cloak seemed slick with crimson under the strange fire light, both of them appearing awash in the color. She clumsily did so, nearly dropping the blade as it slipped out. He then waited for her to cut him back. She did not dare to cut his face though she was tempted. He had cut her clean, barely a real cut. She would not be so skilled or deft. While she relished the idea of disfiguring that horrible handsome face, she elected to play it safe. She grabbed his hand and cut the palm. Her cut was definitely deeper as the blood flowed out quickly from the meat of his palm.

He reached up to grab her face, their cuts meeting. She could feel the hot flow of blood down her chin and neck. It tangled in her hair and stained the white dress. When he pulled his hand away his gaze held a quiet intensity that should have scared her. Instead it made her wonder what he was saying. What kind of spell was he weaving around them?

“ut ardeat nox, desiderium perpetuum, molliter cunis intra muros.”

He ripped a strip of his cloak off with his hands and tied it around his bleeding wound. He never stopped looking at her or speaking in the foreign language.

“regina siderum, radix vitae”

His hand was cradling her head again and her own hands rested at her sides, hands balled into fists.

“Nupta est in putredine quae consumit eam.”

She never felt any different if he was casting a spell on her. She mostly felt nauseous, the smell of his blood curled thick around her. The torchlight reflected in his black crown was doing strange things to her eyes. She knew it had to be the lack of sleep messing with her mind but she could not pry the crown from her sight. She swore she could see shapes dancing in the glass like dark shadows against firelight. It was mesmerizing, she could nearly feel the lick of flames against her skin as she watched the light sway.

Whatever else the lord had uttered escaped her. She was only reminded of his presence when he spoke again. She reluctantly took her eyes off of the beautiful glinting glass to meet his gaze.

“You may kiss the bride.”

In a sorching embrace their lips met, his body was molten against hers. She could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady. Then it was over just as quickly, the sound of a bell tolling startled her badly. The bats above them screeched and flew about, angered at the returning noise. A solemn twelve strokes rang out before they fell silent again. The lord picked her up then in the traditional bridal hold and began to carry her back up towards the surface.

That was not what she would constitute as a marriage. Her doubt was growing by the minute that it would fly with anyone else as well. As the rouge lord carried her up the black stairs she thought of how to find her father. They must get word out of what was happening here. Someone would see that the Blackwoods answered for their crimes. She would face whatever came towards her but she would not sit back and accept this. No matter the consequences, she would beat this parasite infecting the castle. As they walked together she watched as every torch they passed dimmed until it went out. Every candle sputtered out in their wake.

The spell is just literally google translate latin bc I can’t be bothered. Anyway here’s what it says: The eternal flame of my dying heart. and your blood shall be mingled with me. so that the night may burn, a perpetual longing, softly cradled within the walls. The Queen of the stars, the root of life, she is married to the rot that consumes her.

[notchainedtotrauma]

From My Patreon: My Favorite Bits Of Fiction I Wrote As  Emotional Responses to Songs

0:00-0:27: Rushed silhouettes, floating buildings, she was heaving and panting through the streets, the screeches and profanities watery, damp against her head, intent on running. She had established a rhythm she could lock herself in and yet always about to miss a beat, slow down and collapse. The backstory was both arid and sinister. Still, in her mind, she remembered the blood soiled bed like muted faces as silent witnesses, fingers sticky with blackberry jam, her body burrowed into her. Bits and pieces doused with that summoning song, the continuous soundtrack of something she couldn't hold together yet.

I tightened against the slipperiness of the wheel, waiting for May to say something, at long last. It wasn't their lithe body, slumped against the back seat, the unremarkable outfit, a mundane stud uniform, but the hushed collection of glares, their  knuckles tense inside their lap. We weren't quite sure of each other, as long as we'd worked out our siblinghood together, the slurry of kisses, the gut bursting laughter, the unceremonious nonchalance. And still, a crevice. And maybe we left each other, in some ways. The passenger side unceasingly wounded; eyes shrunk and blinking, bleached with anguish, her pleats an act of self admonishment. I could sense the belt slash into her chest and her head lolling from side to side. I took her to sever her trailing rope of confessions. They trumpled on her for so long and with such horror that she was here and there, a mind airless in poisonous water. I sped up, because there was no one, and nowhere, and I wanted her through the window, eyes wide open, even.  

I had hovered above the sinister mapping of the hospital, looking for a reward yet to be named, stung with the viscous trickle of hand sanitizer, and how did I end up here, and why did I remain. I could craft the series of flashing images; the hard metal chair, the glassy borders, and the cop, or the detective, or whatever, reaching down my throat for the scene of the crime. The hospital had been closed for a while. I wanted to remain there forever. I wanted to let sickness carry me even as I was holding sickness at arm's length.  

3:48-3:49: I didn’t ponder on violence often; I dutifully ripped, smashed, folded, clawed, worked away at thick flesh, waiting for the blood to spill, for a crease through the face or bruised arms. Every day, I labored on the push and pull of foreign bodies, of interlaced voices, my hands woven through their armpits, their eyes blinking, the mutilated geometry of their noses. And yet, ultimately, always this green fog, a film of bitterness in the mouth. He had barely glimpsed at me the first time, muttered “There”. I needed to leave; too much was happening, the unsettling sway of fractured hips, too much dried blood, something liquid and acrid coming up my throat. I had done the last of it.  

He wasn’t there. She wasn’t there either, crouched on the still damp couch, her eyes enormous and sharp. The screen before her, with its glut of movement and sound, people sizzling everywhere, and her not following the thread, having lost the story halfway through the needle rattling her heart. She dashed out; she wanted to know midnight. She wasn’t dressed for any occasion; tattered sweatpants, a large cotton shirt. She trailed her hand across the bar, her nonchalant walk, hoping the moment would get caught in an endless loop.

The bacon and the plate beneath, looking at it, she was exhausted. She ignored what to make of all of this. She had been starved, and suddenly not. Two hours of damp showering, not even a trickle, she yearned for the water bandaging her skin. What was she to do with that bacon, growing cold, the bars of greasy meat, dripping on all that white ? It was sinister, not to know what to do about food. Every morning, she dropped a pack of instant popcorn in the microwave with weary indifference, poured the syrup. Her life seemed, to her, regulated by the consistent reality of food. Or aimless sex. Everyday, there was the bed, reluctantly open, her wet thighs, her eyes, enormous, her ordinary orgasms.